


Inside Out

by justmeandmymuse



Series: Turning Points [4]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Hiddlesworth Fandom, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Coming Out, Daddy!Hiddlesworth, Fluff, Fully Consensual Sex, M/M, You Have Been Warned, domestic hiddlesworth, men who talk about their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 185,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1379872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmeandmymuse/pseuds/justmeandmymuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shooting a movie, attending premieres and award shows, caring for India and dealing with family - Tom and Chris are more than busy. As the first rush of falling in love makes way for a more settled life together, they find that living true to how they feel about each other changes them, and the people around them, in more ways than they had bargained for. </p><p>How do you deal with life when who you love turns everything inside-out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birth

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again! I'm very excited about this story. Most of you suggested you'd like to read something about them coming out. I'm not sure it is exactly what you've had in mind, but I gave it a whirl!
> 
> PS: thedreamcrystal made a beautiful photoset for this story! Go check it out [here](http://thedreamscrystal.tumblr.com/post/103636616287/inside-out-by-justmeandmymuse-shooting-a-movie).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom gets a phone call late at night. Chris deals with an unexpectedly bad mood. Plus some adorable Daddy!Hiddlesworth and hot sex. I still suck at summaries, but this chapter delivers. ;)

Tom's phone rang at night, three-thirty to be precise. Chris would have slept through it, but Tom was making moves to get up.

"Hm, no," he murmured, pulling his lover back into his arms. "Don't go. People are stupid."

He felt Tom blow out a short laugh. "I know, honey, but it might be Evie."

"Meh." Chris squeezed him close one more time, inhaling deeply of his scent. "Okay. But be right back."

"I will."

Chris let his boyfriend go and grabbed a pillow instead, which wasn't a nearly good enough substitute for his lover's warm, smooth, solid body. He pouted and grumbled and tried to find a good position, which would not come. Three thirty was a stupid time to call. Who called at three thirty in the morning, literally in the middle of the night? And then it hit him. Evie. Tom's sister. Who was so heavily pregnant with twins that the last time they had seen her, with two months to go, she had already grown out of her maternity wear.

She had also thrown the new coat Tom had wanted to gift her with right back into his face when she had heard that Tom was in a relationship with Chris now.

Chris pulled the pillow over his head and willed himself to consciousness. Ten minutes passed without Tom coming back. Screw the time of night and that they both really needed their sleep.

Chris got up.

 

* * *

 

The living room was dark, except for the muted light of the small reading lamp clamped to the back rest of the recliner. Tom sat on it, deep in thought, the phone against his chin. Chris crossed over and inserted himself between Tom and the recliner's back, enveloping him in a tight, if tired, embrace. Satisfied, he felt Tom lean against him, allowing himself to be comforted. Chris kissed his brow and hoped he wouldn't doze off.

"It was Rory. They've got two boys," Tom reported quietly. "Sixteen hours of labor. Evie and the babies came through fine. It was a natural birth."

"What are they going to call them?" Chris asked.

"Timothy and Alexander," Tom said wistfully. "Rory sent a picture, look."

Chris pried his eyes open long enough to take in the picture of Evie and her two babies, one in each arm. She looked sweaty and exhausted, but absolutely blissful. It reminded him of the birth of his own child, his daughter India, who was currently sleeping upstairs in the nursery.

"It's amazing how small they are when they come out," he said.

"And how red and ugly and wrinkled."

"India wasn't ugly."

"Of course not, honey." Tom kissed his cheek and snuggled against his shoulder.

Chris shivered and drew a blanket around both of them. He doubted this would be short. They might as well be comfortable. "Are you going to go visit them tomorrow?"

Tom shook his head.

"Why not?" Chris ran his hand through Tom's hair and pulled his head closer.

"Evie still doesn't want to see me," Tom said quietly. "She didn't want Rory to send the picture to me, either. She didn't want him to say anything at all."

"Do we want to send a present anyway?" Chris asked. "From you and me and India?"

Tom peeked up at him, hope and relief washing over his face.

"Yeah," he said. "I would really like that."

* * *

It was Chris' last day in Greenwich after four weeks on location. The wind had picked up and the sky was slate gray as they filmed the last takes for the epic showdown between good and evil.

Chris was knackered; the long days and a few night shoots were finally taking their toll, not to mention being woken up at 3.30 am the previous night. They had ended up talking quietly until 4.30 am, when Chris wrapped them both in a blanket and they fell asleep right there and nearly missed the alarm ringing in the bedroom at 6.

As it was, Tom had been off the set for the past two weeks and was working from home today, and had opted to keep India with him, as well, sparing her the commute. Knowing that they were home and he wasn't didn't help matters any, either. Chris tried to work up an enthusiasm for the scenes they were doing, but all he really wanted was to be at home with the people he loved. A long and hard shoot with a lot of upheaval in his private life was finally taking its toll.

He was sentimentally thinking about taking a nap with Tom and India when Natalie caught up with him.

"Everything okay?" she asked as they waited for a rather complicated prop to be reset. "You seem a bit tired today."

"Short night," he said, and promptly had to yawn. "Sorry."

"India?" Natalie asked sympathetically.

Chris shook his head. "Tom's sister had twin boys last night, and her husband called with the news at 3.30," he said.

"Twins?" Natalie said, clapping her hands with excitement. "Is Tom going to visit them today? He must be so proud!"

"Eh, no."

"Why not?" Natalie asked. "Are they okay?"

"They’re fine," Chris assured her, and then he had to wonder what to say, and how. "They've just had a fight recently that didn't end very well, so..."

Natalie frowned. "What could be so troublesome that..." And then it dawned on her. "Oh." She eyed Chris sympathetically. "Really?"

Chris just shrugged. He fidgeted with his vambraces and looked whether things were moving on the set.

“You should think that that wasn’t a problem in our day and age,” Natalie said with total conviction. “I mean, really? I never thought that Tom’s family was like that! I mean, it’s so common nowadays, and…”

Chris started to zone out and concentrate on other things. It was easy for Natalie to go on about how normal two men in love were, she was straight, married, had an adorable kid and no mode of comparison. Being in the middle of it all was so different from shrugging your shoulders and declaring it “normal”, from the outside.

It wasn’t that he was upset with her; she’d been a vocal ally for gay rights since he’d known her. But it still rubbed him the completely wrong way; he was like everyone else and didn’t want to need anyone to advocate for him or speak in this tone about his or Tom’s life.

“Are you okay?” Natalie finally asked. “You just looked like you completely zoned out.”

“Just tired,” he said. “I guess I’m ready for a break.”

“Well, today, and then you’re done out here, while the rest of us has to slave on until the weekend,” she teased him good-naturedly.

“Trust me, I can’t wait,” it broke out of him, and he fell silent again.

Natalie leaned against him. “She’s going to be gone after this,” she said quietly. “Then the worst will be over.”

They both knew who she was talking about. Kat, one of their co-stars, had made a lot of trouble for Chris on the lot by confronting him openly with information that Elsa had dropped at her last visit; that he had left her because he’d fallen in love with someone else. Not wanting to betray who it was because he and Tom were not ready to come out to the public at large yet, he’d been faced with a markedly less cheerful crew once word was out. Everyone knew and liked Elsa, and to leave his wife and baby to be with someone else was definitely not winning him any sympathy points. The mood on the set had been strained for a few days until normalcy set in again, but many had never found back to their previous easy relationship with him, maintaining a sceptic distance.

It was nothing he was talking about at home. Tom knew what had happened but had been off for the past two weeks while they were filming on location. When he would join the set again on Tuesday, Kat would be gone and it would just be him, Chris and Natalie, and things would hopefully calm down.

Chris couldn’t wait.

“It’s too bad,” he said carefully. “Didn’t want it to turn out that way.”

Natalie hooked her small hand into his elbow and gazed up at him. “No,” she said. “But I’m sure they’d understand if they knew.”

Chris just shrugged. He wasn’t convinced.

 

* * *

 

The beautiful sound of his daughter giggling greeted him when he came home that night, and the day’s tension immediately fell off his shoulders. Smiling happily, he got rid of his coat and shoes, and passed straight through to the kitchen, where Tom and India were cooking their dinner.

He leaned against the doorjamb in socked feet, watching them, and wondered what on earth he had done to be so damned lucky. Tom was dressed casually in track pants and a loose shirt, with India strapped to his front in a baby carrier. This way, she could see exactly what Tom was doing as he cut and stirred, and she was prone to taste-test about everything that went into the pot.

Right now, Tom was adding carrots to the stew he was making. India was already gnawing at a substantial stick, and when the carrots plopped into the water, little droplets went everywhere.

"Oops!" made Tom. "Did you see that?"

He dropped another piece in, which made a substantial "plop" and he hopped backwards, making India giggle.

"Oh no, what did we do?" They repeated the exercise a few times, with India's pearly giggles bouncing around the room. Tom added onions next, but not without letting India sniff them. As expected, she grimaced, but was brave enough to touch one with her tongue, and then shuddered. "Yeah, that's nasty when raw," Tom agreed. He added leek and a few other vegetables in much the same manner, showing every ingredient to India and saying its name, and letting her try if she wanted to. With the potatoes in, he put the lid on the pot and finally noticed Chris.

The delight on his face was alike to a sun lighting a dark room. India spotted him at the same time and broke out in delighted shrieks, flailing her limbs in an attempt to propel herself, and possibly Tom, forwards. In a few quick steps, Chris crossed the room and enveloped both of them in a hug, careful not to squeeze the baby too hard, who actually loved to be squished between them. He took the chance and kissed Tom, cupping his neck and closing his eyes with feeling. He knew that was all they would be getting before India had had her fill of him, and he always made it count. Gently reacquainting himself with Tom's taste and smell made all the stress of the day simply fall away.

They both smiled when they parted, and quickly rubbed noses, before Chris bent over and kissed his daughter's apple cheeks, and rubbed noses with her. She made a grab for his ears and his beard, and giggled when he faked outrage. She bounced in her carrier, reaching for him, very impatient now, and he quickly loosened the straps and took her on his arm.

"Before you two take off," Tom said, smiling. "Supper will take about another hour. Are you very hungry? I could fix you a couple of sandwiches..."

"You're not my maid." Chris chided gently.

"But I have both hands free," Tom pointed out. "And you do it for me when I'm home late."

Tom had a point there. Chris loved to pamper Tom to within an inch of his life. But he shook his head. "Cup of tea would be great," he admitted. "But I had something to eat before I left. It's fine."

"Okay then." Tom took the carrier off and put it aside. "Off we go."

 

* * *

 

Tom wouldn't always join the Chris-and-India play hour, but today, he was right there. They rolled around the floor with her and made her "fly", tickled and cuddled her and generally exhausted her for the evening. She was pleasant and pliant by the time supper rolled around, and the rest of the night would be spent in the pursuit of quieter pleasures until it was time for India to go to bed.

"Have you got a present and card for Evie's twins?" Chris asked over dinner, enthusiastically emptying his second bowl of stew.

"Yeah, India and I went on a little shopping trip," Tom said. "We also got a nice card. We’ll just have to sign it."

"I've had an idea today," Chris said. "Why don't we add a photo of the three of us?"

"Of you, me, and India?" Tom clarified.

"Yes. I was thinking, India, Tim and Alex are practically going to grow up as cousins. They're just six months apart. Time for their parents to see what she looks like."

"They know what India looks like."

Chris shrugged. "You know what I mean."

Tom gave him a shy smile. "Okay."

Chris hadn't quite counted on him saying yes so quickly. "Really?"

"Yeah, why not. It think it's going to be good for them to see that we're just..." He halted, and his expression turned wistful. "…parents like them."

Chris wisely chose not to comment on that, knowing how fragile Tom's understanding of his role in India's life still was. "Your mom's probably going to see the photo, too."

"We'll send everything addressed to the family, not to Evie," Tom decided. "Or she might throw it out."

"We'll have everything personally delivered," Chris said. He reached across the table to hold Tom's hand. "Hey. Your nephews will know you. I promise you."

He could see Tom swallowing hard. "Okay," he said, his voice raspy. "It still sucks."

"Yeah. It does." Chris knew how close Tom and Evie had been, growing up. "I refuse to believe this will last forever," he said decisively. "Tom, they love you too much. I just want to show them how serious we are about each other, and that it's not going to go away. If they want you back, they'll have to start thinking about accepting things as they are."

Tom drew a shuddering breath. "Let's talk about something else."

* * *

They set up the shot after dinner and India’s bath. Both men chose to dress casual chic and put India in an adorable corduroy winter dress and tights. After a bit of shifting, India was sitting in Tom's lap with Chris right behind them. Tom dissolved into embarrassed giggles a few times, but the first shot was really promising. They tried out a few poses, some of which were not really meant for the public, but for themselves: Shots in which they actually looked at each other, or sitting very close, with their heads inclined against each other. They made it as fun as possible for India, but eventually, she'd had enough. Chris went upstairs with her to change her and put her in her jammies, while Tom uploaded the pictures to his computer up in his makeshift "office" on the gallery.

Chris found him gazing forlornly at the monitor when he came out of the nursery. He went back to put the baby on her play rug and gave her a few toys to distract her, then came to join his lover.

"What is it?" he asked, finding a way to squeeze in behind him. Then his eyes fell on the monitor. "Oh."

They never saw each other when they were together. They didn't know what it looked like when they were both with India. Now they knew.

"I want this on the bedroom wall," Chris finally said. "And on my phone and as my desktop background and my facebook theme."

"You're not on facebook."

"I'll open a twitter account," Chris said. "I'll open a damn tumblr if I have to. ChrisLovesTom.tumblr.com."

"I'd be surprised if there wasn't one already," Tom said wryly. Basically the whole world had known they were in love before they had admitted it to themselves.

"Ah. You're right." Chris couldn't tear his eyes from the monitor. "Tom. This is ridiculous."

"We've got it so, so bad," Tom agreed. "Oh my god. I don't know how we aren't giving off rainbow sparkles in these pictures."

"I think we are," Chris said. "It's really bad."

"It is." Tom looked up at him.

All Chris could do was lean down and kiss him. It was a mistake; he felt the sexual tension between them ignite immediately. "Good thing there aren't any photos of this," he murmured into Tom's mouth, his hand stroking over Tom's scratchy jaw. "Fuck, you turn me on."

"Want some?" Tom asked, a wicked glint in eyes.

"What, sex?" Chris asked, confused.

Tom laughed. "That, too. Photos of us kissing."

Chris licked his lips.

"Wait." Tom turned around and opened a different program on his computer. He tapped a key, and a picture of him sitting in front of the monitor appeared. He turned around to Chris again, a sly grin on his face. "Come here, tiger." He growled playfully and pulled Chris down into another, dizzying kiss.

From the corner of his eyes Chris noticed that the picture on the screen kept changing, and he heard the key clacking periodically. He pretty much forgot about it over Tom's crazy-making taste and the way his breath sped up as they kissed. He didn't know when he'd started to find Tom's 8 o'clock shadow sexy, but feeling the rough stubble against the palm of his hand really got him cooking today. He stroked down Tom's neck and let his hand slip into the front of of his cardigan, stroking over the few hairs on his chest and over his perky nipple.

"Fuck," Tom gasped. "Chris."

"Take a picture of that," Chris growled, rubbing the nipple and palming his pectoral muscle roughly.

"Chris..." Tom moaned, pressing into the caress.

Behind them in the nursery, India started to cry, craving attention.

Breathing heavily, they managed to disengage, their lips wet and bruised, eyes shining.

"Clear your schedule for tonight, you're booked," Chris rasped out.

Tom raised a brow at him and then smiled. "Okay," he said softly. "Can't wait."

* * *

They chose a sweet picture of the three of them, and Chris begged a copy to send to his parents. They sent a cheerful mail to Fiona and Greg and attached the picture, and then printed Evie's out and signed her card.

The other pictures – which Tom had taken care were saved in a secure folder, away from the family photos – waited laid out on the bed later that night for Chris, after they'd brought India to bed.

He walked in, with Tom right after him, stopped, and simply stared. Tom joined him, hand unapologetically on his ass, his deft grip suggesting that he had, indeed, definitely cleared his schedule for this and was impatient for them to begin the evening's entertainment.

But Chris couldn't do anything but stare; stare at the devotion, the desire, the sheer hotness depicted in those prints.

"Hell," he finally rasped out.

"And we're just kissing," Tom murmured suggestively, his teeth tugging gently at Chris' ear. "I want more than kiss you." His hand shifted from Chris' ass cheek down to the back of his thigh, and then lodged between his legs.

Chris licked his lips, his nostrils flaring. Tom had been fairly open with his desire after Chris had played the opening volley. He had slyly suggested Chris get himself ready to play not much later, and while Tom changed the baby a last time and started her bedtime ritual, he'd closed himself off to the guest toilet and prepped. He'd felt shiny, ready and sexual ever since. Whenever Tom gave him a look over the book he was reading to the baby, he wanted to do nothing but wantonly present himself to his lover and beg to be had.

Tom's fingers rubbing between his legs made Chris close his eyes and moan softly.

"So ready," Tom murmured, placing tiny kisses on his neck. "So ready for me."

"You know I am." Chris reached around and took Tom's hand, and looked at him, their faces no two inches apart. "I really need you tonight."

"Anything you want," Tom mumbled, licking his lips.

"I need you very, very deep tonight." Chris went on. “Very deep.”

"Chris..." Tom growled and kissed him, hard, and next thing he knew, Chris was toppling into the spread out pictures on the bed, with Tom on top of him, rubbing their bodies together.

"Tom," he gasped.

"I can't wait," Tom panted, grabbing his still jean-clad ass, and started rutting against him. "Fuck, this is embarrassing, I'm so going to come in my pants. Fuck."

Joyfully, Chris joined the game, getting a good grip on Tom's very well defined butt and off they went.

Only an embarrassing two minutes later it was all over, and they lay there, still fully clothed, sweaty and laughing.

"Eeeeeewwwww," Tom made, chuckling softly. "Why do you have to be so fucking hot...?"

"Why do you always have to tease me for an hour before we do this?" Chris asked, his voice full of affection.

"Because I always think you're going to be a trembling mess and I'm going to be in control," Tom laid out his cunning yet obviously misguided plan.

"And it never, ever works, does it?" Chris ran his hand through Tom's sweaty locks.

"One day it will!" Tom proclaimed, then deflated. "Maybe?"

"It did work once," Chris remembered. "After the boat ride?"

"I was really, really pissed at you and had something to prove," Tom said. "That was different."

“Are you pissed at me now?” Chris still felt needy.

“No.” Tom smiled. “Or I wouldn’t be in this mess, would I?” His voice was warm and affectionate.

“Are you still going to come inside of me?” Chris asked, desperate for intimacy.

“Yeah, Chris. Of course.” Tom stroked over his hair and held him close. “Are you okay?”

Chris hesitated. He really wanted nothing but to get to the end of this long, long day, to get lost in his lover. But ignoring it when Tom picked up on something being wrong had proven to be a very bad idea in the long run. So he sighed, and shook his head.

“Want to talk?”

“Not particularly,” Chris admitted wryly. “I basically just want to have really deep, hot sex and hope that will make it better.”

Tom smiled. “Okay.”

That didn’t sit well with Chris, either. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Tom’s shoulder, one arm slung around his middle.

The moments ticked by, and all that happened was that Tom wrapped his hand around his neck and rubbed his thumb over his skin affectionately. What an ordinary moment, to be alone with your lover like that, lying fully clothed on the bed like that… Chris took a deep breath, finally arriving in the moment, so appreciative, so thankful to be able to experience it.

“It’s okay, Chris,” Tom said in a low voice. “You don’t have to talk.”

“I just want to be with you.”

“Okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.” Tom scooted closer and they embraced.

The light was too bright, but Chris’ nose was against Tom’s neck, and that made him happy. Another incredibly simple thing. “I love you so damn much.”

“Likewise.” He heard Tom’s smile.

Chris took a long, deep breath and cuddled closer.

“I think this would be even more satisfying if we were both not wearing anything, don’t you agree?” Tom suggested gently.

“You just want me for my body,” Chris mewled, making Tom chuckle.

“Right.” Tom brushed his long hair away from Chris’ face and started kissing his brow, his eyelids, his nose. Chris sighed in reaction, raising his face into the caress.

“Like that?” Tom asked, voice incredibly gentle.

Chris gave a tiny nod.

“Okay, honey. I’ve got you.” Tom began to spin him into a web of soft touches, appreciative kisses, a brush of lips on his, his fingertips tracing along his hairline, lifting his chin into a deeper kiss. Chris heard himself moan softly, concentrating solely on Tom’s touch, the meeting of their tongues electric.

“More,” he heard himself beg.

“Honey, let me turn off the light, I want to concentrate only on you.”

Chris nodded shortly and closed his eyes. It went darker and a moment later, he heard Tom strip beside the bed then come to him again.

“Out of those,” he commanded playfully, tugging at his jeans.

“You do it,” Chris asked. He felt Tom straddle his hips and settled his hands on his warm thighs.

“Need to clean us up, huh?” Tom said. Chris felt him lean forward and free a few wet wipes that were always handy on Tom’s night stand. He heard Tom take care of himself and then open his jeans, and take care of business there. He was only half-hard after his last orgasm just over, but Tom’s gentle touch sent sparks all along his nerve endings.

A moment later, they were both clean and naked, and hiding under the covers. Tom’s fingertips along his spine caused Chris’ anus to contract, reminding him that he was still well lubricated. He just needed to feel Tom deep inside, his warmth, the intrusion into his body; he wanted, _needed_ to make space for him, open himself up for the man he loved so much sometimes it seemed someone reached into his chest and squeezed his heart.

He felt his body get ready for Tom, pour itself into Tom’s touch, become pliant and malleable, until Tom’s gasps told him that it affected him, too.

“Need you so much,” Chris moaned against his shoulder. “Please.”

“Chris…” Tom was breathless with arousal. “I’m not there yet, honey.” He was right; it was too soon.

Chris deepened the kiss, moving against his lover.

“Fuck, Chris.” Tom immediately responded. “You’re killing me, god…” There was no trace of humor left in his voice, just raw need. “On your belly, honey.”

Chris immediately rolled over. He spread his legs and lifted his ass like a cat in heat.

“Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.” Tom slid on top of him. “Chris.” He settled his half-hard cock in Chris’ crack and undulated along his back, placing wet kisses along his spine. Chris pressed up, against him, his face mashed into the mattress, hands clawing at the sheets. He felt Tom shift, a drawer open, the click of a cap of lube.

It was cold for a moment when Tom lifted up and shifted backwards. Then Chris felt his lips, his teeth, his tongue on the dimples just above his ass, and then lower, gently biting at his cheeks, lower again, sucking at the junction between his thighs and his ass.

Chris moaned in reaction. Tom spread his cheeks and laid a long track of lube, with an extra dollop on top of his hole, then helped him to his side and fitted himself to his back.

“I’ve got you, honey.”

“Please,” Chris begged. “Please.”

It would have been so easy for Tom to use a dildo for this, but Tom was a very jealous lover and didn’t like anything but himself inside Chris. Since his own cock was still recovering, he used his sensitive, impossibly long fingers to touch Chris along his crack, stroke him gently, transferring a bit of lube along his taint, around his balls.

“In,” Chris whined. “Oh god, Tom.” His whole body was a life wire for Tom’s touch.

Pressing his body rhythmically against Chris’ back, Tom traced his fingertips along his crack and then pushed in casually, circled, pushed in, circled, pushed in. Chris’ entire body was nothing but that touch, he writhed and cried out each time Tom penetrated him, then simply grabbed a pillow to muffle his cries so he didn’t have to hold back. Within ten strokes, Tom was mid-knuckle-deep inside of him with two fingers, his teeth sinking into his shoulder when his fingers slid into his ass all the way.

For a moment, they only panted, unmoving, letting the moment stand.

“Love, I’m hard,” Tom told him roughly.. “I’m ready for you, but I want you to come to me and take from me what you need.”

Tom wanted him to turn around and look at him. Chris contracted around his fingers, getting a few more pumps out of Tom, and then twisted his torso to kiss him. A sharp bolt of arousal shot through him and he whimpered into Tom’s mouth.

“Please, like this,” he begged. “I just need you close while you’re in me. I want you all over me. Tom…” His voice nearly gave out.

“Love…” Tom adjusted, and slipped his cock between Chris’ cheeks. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

“So ready…” Chris’ breath was knocked out of him when Tom turned him on his belly once more, but he laughed happily. “Yessss…”

The first pressure against his hole was heaven. Tom was so hot, the fat head of his cock pushing against all the right nerve endings. Chris scooted his knees up and rocked gently against him.

“That’s it,” Tom said. “Take what you need.”

Chris opened up, taking the tip in, every millimeter pure bliss, the stretch divine. He laughed, he cried, he tore at the sheets, he took in his lover’s rock hard cock inch by inch until it was lodged deep inside of him, filling him completely. Chris exhaled, chuckling happily, suddenly at peace.

“Was that what you wanted, hm?” He could hear Tom’s smile, felt him rock against him very gently, move his cock in tiny increments inside of him.

“Hm, yeah.” Chris smiled as he exhaled. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Okay.” The slight tremble in Tom’s voice betrayed his own excitement. “You feel pretty good yourself,” he admitted, a bit breathless.

“Yeah?” Chris turned his head and grinned at him.

“Yeah.” Tom gave a harder push, mushing Chris’ face into the mattress in the process. “Don’t get cheeky with me.”

Chris laughed, his heart dancing. He reached back and stroked along Tom's thigh. "Wrap around me?" he asked.

They curled up on their sides, with Tom fitting snugly to his back. Chris turned his head and asked for a kiss. He received a feather light one, Tom breathing into him while his cock still moved inside him in tiny, tiny strokes, just enough to not let him forget that he was there.

“Gorgeous,” Tom sighed, his eyes half closed at the sensations.

Chris took his hand and kissed his palm, completely in the moment, completely in knowing they were as close as they possibly could. “Thank you,” he breathed, meeting Tom’s tiny movements with his own.

“Hm?” Tom asked dreamily.

Chris just smiled, knowing how much effort it took Tom to make such slow love with him, how daring it was for him to potentially expose himself to all kinds of free-flowing bits from his past that such open, tender lovemaking tended to shake loose. He didn’t mind; being there for Tom when it happened was so incredibly rewarding and made him feel so close to him. But he could understand that Tom was reluctant to initiate it, and preferred a quicker pace.

This was anything but quick. Chris just needed to feel Tom as deeply and wholly as he could. He wanted to fill himself up with him so completely that it might actually be enough – already knowing that would never happen. He would always be back for more, and that’s how he liked it.

Tom worshiped him completely, still moving his cock inside of him while he kissed and caressed him, his touches so gentle, so reverent that Chris felt the tension coiling in his belly so slowly he hardly noticed it before he nearly went insane with lust. He was writhing under Tom’s touch, begging him for more, absolutely trusting that he was completely safe with his lover.

Tom’s strokes started to be longer, deeper, his fingertips dancing over Chris’ nipples, his tongue and lips sucking and licking at the soft skin of his neck.

Before he knew it, Chris was on his knees again, with Tom crouched over him, their hands entwined, thrusting into him deeply, each thrust accompanied by a pained, spiraling moan.

Chris hardly knew how to move, nearly bursting with arousal, he pressed his ass against Tom’s crotch, moving into every stroke and whimpering when Tom began to hit his prostate. He abandoned all semblance of control and let Tom do with him as he pleased. When his lover reached around and started to stroke Chris’ cock in time with his thrusts, Chris’ felt like his last anchor had been cut. He braced himself against Tom’s wild bucking against his back until he felt him come, deep inside of him, and that set off his own orgasm. Unable to hold back, Chris uttered a muffled cry and spilled over Tom’s hand, jerking under the nerve endings firing all over his body until he had to beg Tom to stop.

Entirely spent, they barely managed to stay on all fours as they caught their breaths. A position change would mean Tom would slip out sooner, which neither of them wanted to chance, so they held it until Tom slipped out naturally, the wet tip of his now half-limp cock painting the inside of Chris’ thigh with his seed.

“Sorry,” he said in a voice that told Chris that he had been crying. It was time he gave something back, so Chris slowly turned around and let Tom collapse into his arms and held him, his heart so impossibly full.

“I love you,” he murmured, placing a kiss on the top of Tom’s head.

Tom’s arms just contracted around him, without his lover saying anything. He didn’t have to.

“So much,” Chris whispered into his ear, smiling.

“Are you okay?” Tom mumbled.

“Hmmm, perfect.” Chris purred.

“I think I’m getting old,” Tom groaned, peeking up at him. “You keep wearing me out.”

“Then I’m doing it right.” Completely at peace with himself, Tom, and his life, Chris drew the duvet over them and snuggled both of them in.

Talking would have to wait.


	2. Momentum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris gets a call from his mom, and attends counseling with his new therapist, who offers a surprising new view on his situation. Dinner with Tom uncovers a misconception about their future together.

It didn't take long for reactions to the photo to roll in. Chris' mother called the next morning – they talked on the phone several times a week – and expressed her delight.

"Chris, that's an adorable picture," she said. "You both look so happy. We can't wait to see you and Tom for Christmas."

"Um," Chris stalled.

"Don't tell me you haven't decided yet if you'll come," she said.

"I can't decide anything until I've talked to Elsa," Chris said.

"And you still haven't heard from her?"

It had been almost three weeks since Elsa had left to shoot a movie in Romania.

"Um, no," Chris had to admit.

"I can't believe she doesn't even want to see India!" Fiona said.

"Tom and I post messages and photos to the baby board every day," Chris said, referring to the internet platform they had created to keep Elsa in the loop on India’s daily adventures. "And we can see that she looks at the messages from the number of hits they get. Give her a little more time. What I've done was..." He exhaled. "It was a shock, mom, I'm not proud of myself."

"But India is her child!" Fiona protested.

"She's not going to abandon her," Chris said firmly.

"So she's keeping you two on hold about how to proceed?"

"I don't feel very much on hold," Chris said. "I just want to let her make a decision about where she wants to spend Christmas. We got... we got married on the 23rd, after all." He pushed a pen around. "I don't think she'll want to see me, but I would like to spend Christmas with my daughter... it's her first, after all. I'll have to try."

"When you put it that way," Fiona said. "I get it. But I don't like the idea of you and Tom alone in London."

"Me neither," Chris admitted. "But there's only so much I can do."

"How is Tom?" Fiona asked fondly. "Is he around?"

"No, he's out. There's a big gala coming up for him on Sunday where he chairs, and he's been in and out of meetings and rehearsals all week. So it's just India and me." He chuckled. "We're being right bums, snuggling all day and getting into mischief."

"Chris, can I show your photo to Luke by any chance?" Fiona asked.

Chris shrugged. "I don't know why not." His elder brother wasn't exactly delighted about him being with a man now, but he knew, and was trying to wrap his head around it as best as he could. "I guess it can't hurt?" Then he thought of something. "But don't send him a copy, if Carol sends it to Elsa, I think that would be a bit much." Luke's wife and Elsa were close friends and had been in touch after the breakup.

"You're still looking out for her, are you?" Fiona asked, touched.

"I've hurt her enough," Chris made clear. "I don't want to add more on top of it if I can help it."

"And you?" Fiona asked.

"Mom, I'm going to counseling to deal with it all, and Tom and I are..." As always, when he talked about his lover, he had to smile. "Tom and I are perfect," he said, aware of how his voice changed. "We're really, really good together." But he knew what his mother was asking. "I think I'm doing okay."

"Chris, we can't wait to see you, so... if you can make it, come to LA for Christmas, will you?"

"I'll see what I can do," Chris said. "But it's not completely in my hands."

 

* * *

 

"The work we do here is not about helping other people," Michael Taylor, Chris' new counselor, said that afternoon. "We're here to figure out how to help you."

"I'm okay," Chris said, picking at his chair's leather cover. "Elsa is the one who needs help."

Michael shifted in his seat, readjusting the pad he held on his knee. He was markedly different from Dr. Casey, who had first helped Chris and Elsa as their couples counselor. Easily as tall as Chris, he was about six years his senior, muscular, and sported a shaved head and intricate tattoos on his forearms and neck. There was a sense of coiled strength about him always that Chris very much related to, as well as the kind of calm that Chris found reassuring. This was the kind of man who would not topple over if you came in with something shocking; he would calmly sort it out with you. He insisted on being called by his first name, giving their meetings a familiarity that Chris felt at ease with.

"Why do you think she needs help?" Michael asked in that quietly infuriating way that therapists had, never giving up anything about themselves and always throwing the ball back into your court.

"Isn't that obvious?" Chris snorted. "I left her for a man and now she needs to deal with that. She hurts. I want to help."

"And how much do you think help from you will be appreciated?" Michael asked calmly.

Chris shot him a nasty look. Michael might be helpful but in no way was being here comfortable.

"Probably not at all," he admitted. "That's why I'm thinking about asking my sister-in-law for help."

"With what?"

"Finding out where Elsa wants to go for Christmas," Chris said. "We're all meeting in LA, the whole Hemsworth clan, I mean, and I want her to be there."

"Why do you want Elsa to be there?"

"So I can go," it shot out of Chris. He halted. Stumped. "Oh."

"You can't go if she doesn't go?" Michael asked.

"I want Christmas with India," Chris said. "If Elsa stays in London, or goes to Spain to be with her parents..."

"Aren't you talking?" Michael asked.

"Now you start, too," Chris grumbled. "No. She asked not to be bothered in Romania and I respect that."

"Meanwhile, she leaves you in limbo about a major family holiday that you want to attend," Michael said calmly. "There are many ways to hurt a person."

"I deserve it."

Michael raised a brow at him, tapping his pen against his pad. "Deserve what?"

It sounded so idiotic when he was forced to say it out loud. "To be hurt." He furrowed his brow. "That's fucking stupid."

"Why is it stupid?"

"You know how much I hurt Tom when I want to get a kick up the ass for hurting Elsa? Sometimes I get so wrapped up in feeling guilty all I can do is hurt other people so they'll kick back," it broke out of him. "I get better at figuring out when it starts; I go downstairs and work it off. But I know I worry him. I don't want to worry Tom, he really has enough on his plate."

"And we're back to other people's needs," Michael said.

"I love him."

"That's a good thing, but we're not talking about Tom, we're talking about you."

"But it is all about Tom!" Chris said, immeasurably frustrated.

"How?"

"It fucking scares me, okay?" He felt in his gut that Michael's questions were getting closer to where it hurt and it made him nothing if not defensive. He held up a hand. "I know what your next question is going to be, 'Why?'"

Michael smiled. "Why?" he asked predictably. "What's so scary about it?"

Chris had, when couples counseling with Dr. Casey had ended with Elsa's decision to quit for the time being, requested a counselor who knew what it was like to be with a man, and was also a father. He didn't know if the latter was true for Michael, they never talked about his therapist's private life, but he was fairly sure that Michael was gay. Sitting opposite this man's man with his tattoos and shaved head with the serenity of a monk gave Chris a very good idea that being gay didn't necessarily mean flaunting feathers and wearing pink. It was freeing to see an example of someone being just who he was, without fitting a stereotype, but it was also unnerving, because Chris could clearly see he wasn't anywhere near that yet.

"It all started with him," Chris said, feeling that he was getting into very shaky territory. "I fell in love with my best friend and it changed everything."

It really unnerved him, and he shifted in his seat. Michael wasn't saying anything, silently encouraging him to keep talking.

"It was easy before," he said. "I was married and had an adorable baby and, you know... all that approval comes from everywhere. You're... you're doing what's expected of you, and I thought that was it. I fit in. I really, really thought I was happy. Everything was fine. And then... boom!" He ran a hand through his hair. "Who am I lying to?" he asked his therapist. "Have I been lying to myself and everyone else, all my life? My brother Luke asked me that when I came out to him. He was so upset that I hadn't told him before. I told him there was nothing to tell before. Have I been lying to my wife when I told her I loved her?"

"Are you lying to Tom, now?" Michael asked.

That was easy. "God, no," Chris said. "No. He's... Why would anyone go through all that pain and knowing they were disappointing people and having to figure out all kinds of things from the ground up when... you can only do it if you have love like that," he said.

"Love like what?"

Chris thought back to last night and he knew he mellowed instantly, he knew his whole body language changed when he thought about Tom. "Love that tears out your gut," he said. "That is so inevitable you feel you can't breathe without it."

"It sounds like you aren't in control of what's happening when you're with Tom," Michael observed.

Chris waved him away. "Who would want to be?" he said. "It's magic and crazy and wonderful and we're working so hard to have it. And when it does come together, it's..." He laughed. "I honestly don't know how to describe it."

"So when you compare the two; the marriage to your wife, and being with Tom...?"

"There is no comparison," Chris said, wiping the argument away. "None."

"I know you're into martial arts," Michael said. "When I listen to you, I keep thinking of how you need to find your center if you want to throw good punches."

"You also need to be flexible and fast," Chris said, loving that aspect about it most. Being as bulky as he was at the moment was actually a bit uncomfortable at times because he couldn't quite move the way he was used to.

"Yeah, but if you haven't learned to come back to the center at all times, you can knock yourself out with your punches and kicks," Michael said. "If you don't have a centered stance, anyone can knock you over, no matter how fast you are."

"True." He had Chris' full attention.

"Let's make it an exercise," Michael said. "Close your eyes."

Chris exhaled and did as Michael bid him.

"Describe to me what it feels like to be with Tom."

Again, Chris had to smile. "Safe," he said. "Absolutely secure. Home. Nothing can shake me. I look into his eyes and I know I belong. He makes me smile and... I'm just so calm around him."

"Now describe to me what it felt like to be with your wife."

Chris frowned. "I don't want to say anything bad about Elsa," he said. "She really deserves better."

"But it's just you and me," Michael assured him. "She'll never hear it."

"I know I'll have said it," Chris protested. "And it wasn't her fault."

"How do you feel when you say that?" Michael prompted.

"Eh," Chris said. "Icky."

"What has happened to you that makes you feel you don't deserve what you have now?" Michael asked. "That finding what puts that smile on your face is so horrible that you have to punish yourself for it so much?"

Chris opened his eyes. He inhaled, looking at his fidgety hands. He felt tired suddenly, tired and sad. He was quiet for a long while, just staying in that place, feeling the sadness come up and doing nothing about it.

"What are you thinking?" Michael finally asked when the silence dragged on for too long.

Chris shrugged. "Nothing, just... just being sad."

"Do you know where it comes from?"

Chris shook his head.

"Do you want to find out?"

He had enough of hurting everyone. But more than that, he had enough of keeping himself back for other people all the time, automatically, without thinking about it. "I think Tom is the first selfish thing I've done in a very long time," he said.

"Then I think Tom has been really necessary, and you're pretty lucky to have him," Michael said.

"God, yes."

"People come and go," Michael suggested carefully. "But I would like to help you hold on to what it is that makes you feel like you can conquer anything when you're with him."

"I am, right?" Chris said, running a hand through his hair. "Sheesh. I mean, breaking up a marriage, moving in with him, risking to lose a whole career, it is a bit mad, isn't it?"

"Or the first sane thing you've done in a long while," Michael suggested.

"Oh." Chris hadn't looked at it like that before. "That's... huh." He scratched his head and eyed his counselor. "What?"

Michael laughed. "It's not about being gay or bi or straight or queer or whatever other labels people need so they know what they're supposed to think," he suggested. "In the end, it's about feeling you are who you're supposed to be." He knocked against his chest with his fist. "In here. About being at peace with yourself. And we," he indicated himself and Chris, "because we find we don't just fit in at some point, have to do a bit more work to figure out how to get there. But I've got to tell you, it makes for pretty interesting people."

"Tom is like that," Chris said. "Oh god, listen to me, I've got it so bad!"

But Michael just smiled. "If he's what got you to this point, bad is not the word I would use."

 

* * *

 

Tom picked him up from counseling on his way back from his day-long rehearsal. Chris was so tempted to show him off, but Michael had another client after him. He almost hoped they would run into each other on the street at some point. It was exhilarating to have someone who knew everything about how Tom had changed his life, and still supported him so fully.

"You're beaming," Tom remarked when Chris climbed into the passenger seat of his car. "Was it good?"

Chris leaned over and got a good smooch in, a little exuberant and giddy, maybe, but certainly enthusiastic. "Yes," he finally said. "Really good."

"Good choice?" Tom asked. It had only been Chris' second session with him.

"Yes. He is really good," Chris said, fastening his seat belt. "Where are we going?"

"I'm really hungry, I was thinking... Steak House?" Tom suggested.

"Perfect," Chris enthused. "The day keeps getting better."

"How long is Miss Rose going to stay?" Tom asked.

"Until we're back," Chris assured him. "Nine, latest, though, I wanted us to put India to bed."

"That sounds good." Tom set the signal and pulled away from the curb. "It's been a really long day, I can't wait to conk out on the sofa." He yawned and shot Chris an apologetic look. "Sorry."

"That's fine." Chris settled into his seat and reached over to rest his hand on Tom's thigh. The counseling had put him into a really sunny mood, he realized. "How was the rehearsal?"

"Eh." Tom laughed. "Long and complicated."

"Did everything go wrong?"

"That will be tomorrow," Tom predicted. "I hope." If the dress rehearsal went wrong, usually the show went off without a hitch. He turned left and shot Chris a quick look.

"Hm?" Chris asked.

It took Tom a few moments of quiet driving until he opened his mouth again. "Just weird," he said.

"Weird what?"

"I could've stayed longer," Tom said. "They're still at it."

"And...?"

"I didn't want to."

It made Chris smile. He leaned back in his seat and stretched his legs, settling into the utterly relaxing realization that the day was over and he got to spend what was left of it with Tom.

"You change me," Tom said. He shot Chris another quick look.

"Good or bad?" Chris asked, getting right to the meat of things.

"Not sure yet," Tom admitted. "I haven't cut work short for a relationship since I was a teen."

"Good, then," Chris decided. "Were they okay with it?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "Lots of indulgent smiles," he admitted. "I said I had someone waiting for me, and they were all Aw and How Cute." He grimaced. "'Is she nice?'" He imitated the questions. "'Do we know her?'"

It made Chris chuckle. "What did you say?"

"I lied and said that it was my turn to babysit India tonight because you had to be somewhere," Tom said impatiently. "That made them go gaga even more."

Chris laughed out loud.

"They want you to visit and bring India," Tom said.

"Do you want us to?" Chris asked.

"No work will be done," Tom claimed. "Everyone is going to fuss over the baby."

"She is pretty cute," Chris admitted.

"And she knows how to work a room, let's be real here," Tom said, and he had to laugh. "Yeah, why not."

It made Chris unexpectedly happy, that Tom wanted to share so much of his life with him. "It'll be a bit like a dress rehearsal for us, too," he said quietly.

"They don't know we're together."

"My point," Chris said.

"I'm not ashamed of you," Tom said quietly. "I don't care."

It was so different from their first time together, when Tom had been quaking with fear about being gay, all the indoctrination from his classmates at Eton coming back full force.

Chris took his currently unoccupied hand and squeezed it. "I know."

He didn't say Neither do I.

 

* * *

 

"Mom called this morning," Chris said over his substantial steak about half an hour later. "She's been asking about Christmas."

"It's just a bit over three weeks to go, isn't it?" Tom said. "Gosh."

"Yeah." Chris washed down his piece of meat with a good gulp of ale. "Ah."

"Was it about coming to LA?" Tom asked.

"Yes." Chris quirked an eyebrow at him. "Would you like to go?"

It wasn't as if Tom hadn't thought about it. "Yes," he said frankly. "I would."

Chris beatific smile was a nice reward. "Really? Cool."

"I mean, let's be real," Tom said. "Mum's not going to change her mind about you and I overnight. Even if she was, I doubt she'd let me bring you and India."

"If she was, would you want to go there?"

"Would you, over going to LA?" Tom asked. "Oh, the domestic questions. It's kind of a lot easier that my family doesn't talk to me, isn't it? So we don't have to choose between one and the other."

"Your father could still ask you," Chris pointed out.

Tom laughed. "No," he just said. "We've been utilitarian about Christmas for a very long time."

"Your father keeps being a wonderful example of what I don't want to end up being," Chris said, lifting his ale. "Cheers."

Tom didn't really want to drink to that. "When we go to LA, what is going to happen with India?" he asked. "Is she coming with us, or...?"

"You know as much as I do," Chris admitted. "Still haven't talked to Elsa."

Tom nodded.

"It's kind of... something that Michael said today, that... that I keep thinking about what other people want and kind of put myself last all the time," Chris said.

"He said that?" Tom was pleased, Chris usually didn't talk a lot about his counseling.

"Yeah, hm... I thought... I thought, what do I want? Where do I want to go? And I want to be in LA, with you, and I want us all to spend Christmas together."

"And India?"

"Of course and India," Chris said a little impatiently. "But my influence over that only goes so far. I thought about it, really thought about it, and... I still want to be there with you, even if India can't come."

"Oh, wow," Tom said, putting his utensils down for a moment to stare at Chris. "Are you sure?"

Chris nodded. "I can't put my life... our life on hold forever over Elsa," he said. "I want to look for a house in LA for us to live in when I have to go back to work there and I want you with me. I want us to find a home there for the three of us."

"Chris..."

"Would that be okay, as a Christmas present?" Chris asked.

Tom blinked wordlessly, feeling that he gaped like a fish.

"I know I've said that I would like us to buy a house together here," Chris continued. "And I still want that, but... I can see that you're a bit reluctant about it. I don't want to push you. We've only been together for such a short time."

"It's not that," Tom said, a little alarmed. "It's really not that."

"So I figured maybe it was easier... since we need two houses anyway... if I bought one in LA, and you owned the one here, so if things go bad, it won't... it won't mean we'd have to untangle it all and all that..."

"Shut up," Tom interrupted him. "It's not that."

"No?" Chris gave him an adorable head tilt that reminded him of a puppy, as so many things about Chris did.

"No." He shook his head. "It's really not that." How did Chris always manage to jump right into the center of all of Tom's insecurities and want exactly that? A little desperately, he searched for words. "I know you have to go back," he finally said. "I know your year is basically booked, and it's not with things to do in London." It was a painful realization, one he kept trying to get around, that Chris' assured time with him was ending when their shoot ended, and that was just a bit more than five weeks away. "And so... I... I don't want to sit in a big house missing you all year," he said quietly. "I want you home and with me and India and... and everything. I want all of that." He drew a shuddering breath. "Not sitting on my own in a big house that echoes with what could be."

Chris was clearly shocked. "Tom, I'm not going to leave you alone," he said.

Tom shrugged.

"Nononono," Chris insisted. "No. We're not going there. Not even remotely."

"You're going to be halfway around the world in a few months," Tom said. "Let's be real here."

"So we'll find a way to be together," Chris said. "I'll have breaks, you'll have breaks. If there is one single thing I want to keep doing with you that I did with Elsa it's to never be apart for more than two weeks."

"Oh god," Tom gave a sobbing laugh. "How is that going to work, with you all over Asia for months, and me here?"

"Tom," Chris leaned forward and his voice dropped. "You don't get to panic over that before you have even talked with me about it." He reached over and covered Tom's hand. "Do you have that little faith in me?"


	3. Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some family time with India, and Tom has a big request to make of Chris.

Their drive back was quiet. Chris had taken the wheel, but he kept Tom's hand on his thigh and covered it with his own whenever he didn't have to use it to shift gears. Tom felt very small and very stupid and dumb and needy. He ended up leaning against his lover's shoulder, closing his eyes, and felt his lips on his forehead just a moment later.

He always thought he would outgrow his boyhood pains and then they always came back with such a vengeance. The past three weeks with Chris had been wonderful, blissful, glorious in a way he had never expected. Caring for India together brought all the difficulties he'd anticipated; less time to spend together, interrupted nights – though fewer than he had previously thought – and juggling schedules, desperate to find time to spend together.

And at the same time, it had been more fulfilling and rewarding than he could've dared to believe. He loved watching Chris and India goof off, and his heart had grown a few sizes over seeing his hunky boyfriend be so gentle and sensitive with his tiny child. Caring for her together, looking out for her needs, talking about her schedule, the occasional bumps in the road and devising new ways to make her laugh was like being on a life long, evolving project with the man he loved. It made him proud and happy and he sometimes caught himself wondering how on earth he could have been so damn lucky.

But Rory's call had suddenly knocked him for a loop again, reminded him that he was paying for all this with family members who were shunning him for being happy with Chris. It was so unfathomable and made no sense. Getting that call from Rory, being told, reluctantly – he had had to ask – that no, Evie's opinion had not changed, that she didn't want to see her brother, and didn't want her brother to see her, or her babies... every single abandonment issue he'd ever had had reared its head and roared.

Every single one.

And it didn't matter then how grown-up and successful you were, or how many people hung on your lips as you rehearsed for a gala, what was left at the end of the day was a little boy who was suddenly without a sister that he loved. Whom he wanted to be with to celebrate this mile stone with. And he mourned that with all the intensity and all the internal "Then I don't want you, either!" tantrums that only a twelve-year-old could throw while he joked jovially with the stage hands at the rehearsal, only to come home to the one person who mattered most to him and then disappoint him, too, because he didn't expect better from him than what he'd had so far.

If Tom had been a dog, he would've gone into a dark corner, crossed his paws over his snout and felt ashamed of himself. Instead, he was here, drawing comfort from his lover's bulk, his warm, reassuring body under his cheek, and his beautiful, long-fingered, strong hand entwined with his own. Telling him not to worry; that he wouldn't just be here today, tomorrow, and a few days after that, but that he'd been thinking about next month, next spring, next summer, next year with him.

He'd expected to be uneasy about being with someone who was making such strong assumptions about the duration of their relationship, and instead, he found himself bolstered and comforted. He was definitely getting old or sentimental or both.

His hand squeezed Chris', and Chris squeezed back.

“I was just thinking,” he said. “Would you come to the gala with me?”

“On Sunday?” Chris asked.

“Yeah.”

“Would you even have time for me?” Chris smiled and winked at him. “Sounds like you’re really involved in the whole show.”

“I’d love to have you there,” Tom said quietly. His thumb rubbed gently over the back of Chris’ hand. He was aware that the silence after that dragged on, but he was comfortable with that. It was a big thing to ask.

“That would be a bit more than a dress rehearsal, then.” Chris finally said.

Tom shrugged. “Can’t I bring a friend to an event?”

“You’ve been taking Becca and see what a storm in the teapot that was,” Chris joked, alluding to the barrage of speculation and the female fans’ outrage at Tom bringing someone who might potentially be a girlfriend. There had been some backlash for Becca which she’d found hard to bear, even though Tom had been able to introduce her to several people who would definitely make a difference in her career.

Tom had in consequence been going to the last few premieres on his own.

“But I want to take you,” Tom insisted quietly.

“It’ll be all over the papers,” Chris said. “Are we ready for that?”

“It’ll say that you felt lonely since your wife’s off shooting a movie, and I took you out for the night to distract you,” Tom said. “There’s been a press release about Elsa being on a movie out there. People know.”

He saw that Chris tensed up and was surprised how calm he stayed with it. Chris was taking it on, he was taking this seriously, thinking hard about it. He wasn’t trying to distract or joke about any of it, just staring it in the eye, measuring it up.

“I am so tired of all these _lies_ ,” Chris finally moaned. “Trying to think of all these stories, I’m so sick of it. Why can’t it just be normal that we’re together?”

So that was it. Tom didn’t say anything, he played with Chris’ fingers, sliding his own between them, taking in their strength, warmth, the texture of his skin.

“Having to be afraid that I look just a little too proud and little too smitten while you’re on stage, charming the pants off everyone,” Chris said. “Or that I forget myself and hold you a little too long when you come back to the table.”

Tom didn’t have to say that they’d been to awards shows before, even sat at one table, that everyone was quite used to them being all over each other even before they had fallen in love. They were everyone’s favorite bromance… except now it was a full-blown romance with all the bells and whistles, and that suddenly changed _everything_.

“Or god forbid kiss you,” Chris said, and then, quieter. “Why can’t I just kiss you?”

“Do you want to?” Tom asked quietly.

“Do you know what bothers me most?” Chris went on without answering Tom’s question. “What really bothers me most is that people go on and on about being gay and how normal it all is and I just want to whack them over the head.”

Tom gave an amused snort. “Who did?”

“Natalie. Yesterday. I know she’s lovely and an ally and what not but she’s straight and everything is normal in her life. And why do I need an ally? Why do I need an ‘advocate’? As if I can’t speak for myself!”

Tom listened with rapt attention.

“And all that about being gay. Everyone wants to quickly stuff me in a box and label me. I don’t even know if I’m gay! But just because I fell in love with you, people behave like complete idiots suddenly, as if that means I’m suddenly living in another universe and we have nothing in common any more.”

“Who did that?” Tom asked, absolutely fascinated by having a front seat to Chris’ thought processes.

“Luke. You know how he is. He suddenly treats me with kid gloves and doesn’t even talk to me the way he used to.”

“And you haven’t even told Liam,” Tom said.

“No. I haven’t. I have him on the phone twice a week going on about girlfriend trouble and going to clubs and all kinds of brother stuff and I don’t want that to end. Liam needs me, he needs a big brother to look up to, someone who will keep him in line. If that goes away I’m afraid of what he will do,” Chris said forcefully.

Tom didn’t need to point out that Chris was living on the edge when it came to Liam. With both his parents and older brother knowing, someone was bound to accidentally spill the beans.

“He thinks we’re having slumber parties without him here,” Chris said. “He keeps going on about the three of us hanging out together. He really likes you.”

“Oh, Chris.” Tom had to laugh. “Does he know you bringing me to LA?”

“He said it would be cool to bring you,” Chris said. “‘ _Tom is all right, man.’_ ” He imitated his brother.

It made Tom laugh even more. “Your family is a wonder,” he said. “They all love you so much.”

Chris shot him a look. “I know. I have no reason to complain. Compared with yours, they’re all fucking saints.”

He set the signal and drew into the quiet side street where they lived.

“You feel how you feel,” Tom said. “No reason to apologize.”

Chris carefully navigated the car into the driveway and settled it in its carport. They got out, and Tom made his way quickly around to catch up with Chris before he stepped into the light.

“Hey,” he said, sliding his arms around his lover’s middle. “I believe you said something about wanting to kiss me?”

“Heh heh,” Chris chuckled, charmed. He made no apologies about drawing Tom closer by his butt. “Yeah?”

“Go for it.” Tom brushed his nose against Chris’, and then they kissed. Chris was especially pliant today and took his time with him, giving Tom ample chance to melt into him and forget about the world.

As their lives aligned, more and more of it was now spent on routines and arranging small things about living together, maintaining a schedule that allowed them to see each other, and caring for India. Tom was slowly growing into that, regarding the whole process as incredibly reassuring and strengthening for their relationship. He could literally watch their lives meshing and intertwining and that gave him a kind of calm that he had not known for a long time. But these moments, when they were just two men deeply in love with each other, enjoying and still discovering each other, was what made all of this possible, and he treasured them with all he had.

Apparently, Chris felt quite the same way, if the way he pulled at and massaged his butt cheeks were any indication, and the content hum that accompanied his kisses.

“Yummy,” he sighed. “Best dessert I’ve ever had.”

“There’s more,” Tom teased.

“Right here?” Chris teased right back, turning Tom’s back against the car and pressing him against it.

Tom was pretty sure that he could feel that their kissing already had an effect on Chris. Or maybe it was just his wallet in his coat pocket? The thought made him giggle.

“I can see you aren’t taking this seriously,” Chris mock complained, then he joined in with the laughter.

“I’m taking this very seriously,” Tom assured him. “To be continued inside?”

“Yeah.” Chris pecked him on the lips once more and locked the car behind him. “That sounds like a great idea.”

 

* * *

 

India was busy being read to when they came into the living room. As soon as she spotted Chris, though, she bounced in Miss Rose’s lap and wanted to be picked up, the book forgotten.

Miss Rose handed the baby over and got up, joining Tom in watching father and daughter greet each other indulgently.

“That never stops being fun to see,” she remarked.

“It doesn’t, does it?” Tom said as Chris was tossing the little girl and she squealed and giggled, daring him to toss her higher. “Really, like father, like daughter.”

“India’s eaten dinner at six and had a biscuit since. I changed her about an hour ago,” she rattled off the baby essentials.

“Did you find everything in the kitchen?” Tom asked. They prided themselves on keeping their babysitter well fed and watered.

“Yes, thank you, that cake was delicious.” She smiled at Tom.

When Chris had asked India’s favorite teacher if she knew someone trustworthy to pick up on care for India when they couldn’t be there, she had immediately volunteered herself. It turned out that she was saving to go to school next summer, and welcomed the extra cash, which was really the ideal solution. India’s day-to-day was already in upheaval because her parents were separating; adding yet another new person to care for her was something that they were happy to avoid. Chris had hired her away from the production to be solely responsible for India for the duration of the shoot, and it worked out well for everyone.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Tom said. “Oh, before I forget, would you happen to be available on Sunday evening? I know it’s short notice and everything…?”

“I’m off tomorrow and Monday, right?” she asked.

“Yes,” Chris said. He joined them, holding his child close. “We both have a call on Tuesday morning and we’ll bring her in, so it’ll be a normal day.”

“That sounds fine,” Rose said. “What time would you need me on Sunday?”

Chris raised both brows at Tom in question. “Am I going somewhere?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I just… wanted to make sure we had someone for India in case you wanted to,” Tom said.

“Six to… open end?” Chris asked.

“The show starts at eight,” Tom said. “I need to be there by seven for the press line.”

“Six thirty?” Rose suggested.

“And I don’t think we’ll be later than 2 am,” Tom said.

She waved him off. “I can bring some school work and my laptop. It’ll be fine.”

Tom looked pleadingly at Chris.

Chris slowly shook his head in a “well played” gesture. “Fine. Okay.” He relented. “Let’s aim for six?”

“I’ll be here,” she assured them. “I see you on Sunday, India!” She waved at the little girl, who bashfully hid her face against her father’s shoulder.

 

* * *

 

After Tom had brought Miss Rose to the door, he came back into the living room, plopping onto the sofa with father and daughter. “I need a shower,” he groaned.

“Bath, when she’s in bed?” Chris asked.

“That sounds nice.” Tom yawned. India wanted to sit in his lap and he accepted her, bouncing her on his knee. “Hello cupcake,” he said. “Have you had fun with Miss Rose?”

India “answered” him with great gravity, and he pretended to understand everything, nodding earnestly, and kept asking new questions. When she felt she’d said everything, she suddenly let herself fall forward against his middle. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. “I love you, too, India,” he said, placing a kiss on her always unruly mop of hair. Her love was so genuine and easy. She let herself be held for a while and then demanded to be back with her Daddy.

Tom got comfortable on the sofa, lying on his back with his head against the headrest, his toes under Chris’ thighs as he watched them talk and play. So much had changed since his first reluctance about his role in India’s life as the man who was the cause for her parents breaking up. He loved Chris with all his heart, and Chris loved him back just the same way. All there was to do was to make it as easy on India as they possibly could, and he worked hard on that.

The thing was, there was nothing hard about it if you just followed India’s lead. Naturally curious and loving, she bestowed her affection freely and easily, and all he had to do was be ready to accept it. Yes, his heart cringed when she was quite obviously looking for and asking for her mother, when she perked at the sight of someone resembling Elsa, and was then crushed when it turned out to be someone else. But he had not been the one to decide to leave India solely with them for six weeks. So all he could do was commiserate and love India as best as he could… his way.

Apparently, his way was in demand as suddenly, a baby was hovered over his belly, flailing to be held.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he accepted her, and placed her on his stomach. She cuddled herself in. “Are you getting tired, hm?” He rocked her gently from side to side.

“I’ll get you two a book,” Chris said quietly. “And then I’ll start her bottle. I think she’s really had enough for today.”

“Okay.” Tom fished for a pillow and propped them up against the backrest, then laid the book against his raised legs and turned India on her back, so she could see the pictures while he read to her. “Oh, look at that, India! Is that Winnie the Pooh?”

From her lackluster response, he could tell she really was getting tired. Luckily, she was already in her jammies and didn’t need a change of clothes any more.

When Chris came back and handed him the bottle, he sat down with them, draping Tom’s legs across his lap, and rubbing India’s little kicking feet.

Tom hardly got two thirds of the bottle into her when she was already drifting off. Chris changed position and squeezed in with them, and they lay cuddled together, India on top of Tom, and Chris wrapped around both of them, inhaling the peace, quiet, and togetherness until India had fallen asleep for good.

“I just want to stay here,” Tom admitted, and yawned. “The day is just catching up with me.”

He felt Chris’ lips against his own and smiled. ”Hmm.” Next was his hand under his shirt, and he started purring.

“I love you,” Chris said quietly.

“Are you upset about Sunday?” Tom asked, turning his head to regard his lover.

Chris shook his head. “Not upset about you wanting me there,” he said. “Just about everything else.”

Tom blinked sleepily at him.

Chris smiled at him, obviously smitten with his sleepy expression. “Too tired to talk?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Tom said. “But not too tired to listen, honey.”

They kissed again, and Chris rested his head against Tom’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing softly over the skin on Tom’s belly. He didn’t speak for a while, and Tom felt his thoughts drifting off, so comfortable and content after a long day of constant demands of his attention.

“I just love you so much,” he finally murmured. “Chris, I love you so much, and I want us to be together.”

Chris’ hand contracting on his belly told him that Chris was listening.

“I know announcing our relationship to the world at large is difficult right now,” Tom said. “But I don’t want to keep pretending we don’t even live together, or share a life together. I want them to get so used to seeing us together that in hindsight, they’re going to go: ‘We should have known.’ I don’t mind white lies if it means I can share my life with you openly. I just… want to be able to look across the room and see you smile back at me.” He felt himself tearing up. “Ah, damn.” He rubbed his eyes. “Sorry.”

He felt Chris’ body tense up around him.

“We have so little time together until you need to leave,” Tom said. “I want to spend as much of it with you as I can.”

Chris scooted up and looked at him. “Tom, the shoot for _Cyber_ only starts in May.”

“You’ll still have to leave eventually, don’t you?”

“Come with me,” Chris said. “Come with me, Tom.”

“I can’t just be your wife,” Tom said. “You know how it is, I have my own career to look after. I’m not you, I don’t have world class directors knocking down my door to work with me.”

Chris regarded him with loving patience. “Ts ts ts,” he said. “Like Spielberg isn’t…”

“That was once…”

“Woody Allen…”

“Really small part!”

“Jim Jarmush.”

“Chri-is!”

“All asked to have you, if I’m not all mistaken,” Chris said.”Plus, weren’t you the first audition for the Rachel Weisz movie and the director didn’t bother to see anyone else after you?”

“And when they call?” Tom said plaintively. “What then?”

“Then we figure it out,” Chris said. “Together?”

“Who is going to offer me a fucking job in south-east Asia while you work there?”

“Tom.” He could feel that Chris was getting a bit impatient with him now.

“Eh,” Tom shook his head and sniffed. “I’m sorry.” He struggled for composure, but now that the dam had been breached, he couldn’t hold back on his worry any more, and the tears kept coming. He laughed through them when Chris wiped them from his face. “Oh god,” he moaned.

“Long day, huh?” Chris said compassionately.

“That, too.” Tom attempted a smile but knew it failed half-way. “And my tendency to roll out a new issue as soon as we’re done with an old one.” He threaded his hand into Chris’ hair.

“Looking at house in LA while we’re there?” Chris asked, and Tom nodded, giving him a soggy smile. “And when Thor’s over, looking at houses here?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll do that.” Tom drew a sobbing breath.

“I know my year is booked, but I’ve seen you sort through offers for yourself,” Chris said. “I can look through them with you, if it would help?”

“It would.” Tom blew out a long breath, feeling a little lighter. He’d spent the whole day yesterday stacking and restacking offers, sorting them by relevance and finding that he couldn’t decide for a single one that didn’t offer some proximity to Chris over the summer, which were – unsurprisingly – none. He was frustrated and amused all rolled into one, and kept feeling as if he was growing into new skin: Itchy and uncomfortable, but no doubt on the way to something new. Something so new that he could not yet fathom it, and that made him restless and moody. “It would help a lot.”

“Sure.” Chris leaned over him and kissed him.

“Chris,” Tom asked after, looking earnestly at him.

“Yeah?”

“Would you please be my date on Sunday?”


	4. Not Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris is trying to deal with Tom's request to be his date on Sunday. A secret comes to light and Chris makes a very late night call.

"This is really important to you, isn't it?"

Tom nodded, biting his lower lip.

"Let me put down India, so we can talk properly?" Chris asked.

"You're going to say no, aren't you?" Tom asked anxiously.

" _Let me put down India, so we can talk properly?_ " Chris repeated patiently.

"Okay." Tom's voice sounded very small.

"I'll be right back." Chris kissed his cheek and then extracted himself from his wedged-in position. He waited for Tom to place a good-night-kiss on India's brow and then took her on his arm carefully. "Don't go anywhere," he told Tom sternly.

Doubt and insecurity was easily visible on Tom's face. "Okay."

  


When Chris came back downstairs, Tom was nowhere to be found. Chris sighed and followed the light into the kitchen where he found his lover cleaning the bottle over the sink. Chris was tired, also, the day with India and the talk with Michael having taken its toll. For a moment, he wanted to be irritated at Tom's behavior, but he knew it was his exhaustion taking over. After all, he didn't know what Tom was gnawing on, or what exactly had triggered his sudden insecurity.

"I think I'm just going to take a shower," Tom said without turning around.

Chris wanted to give an exasperated sigh, but he held back. Instead, he walked over to the sink, slid his hand around Tom's hip and kissed his cheek. "Hey," he said softly. "Tom, it's still our anniversary. Let me have a little bit of you."

He felt Tom stiffen, and then exhale and relax. "You incurable romantic," he chided him gently as he rinsed the bottle a last time and put it in the sterilizer along with the nipple.

"That's me," Chris mumbled against Tom's temple.

Tom finally turned in his arms and allowed Chris to hold him.

"Are you wiping your wet hands on my jeans?" Chris asked.

Tom's body shook with laughter as he nodded against Chris' shoulder.

"Unbelievable." It made Chris grin. "Un-freaking-believable. You're starting to take me for granted."

"Never," Tom protested.

"Uh-huh." Chris wrapped his right arm around Tom's hip and grasped his other, still damp, hand.

"What are you doing?" Tom looked up, and then it dawned on him. "Oh."

Chris lead him into a few dance steps into the kitchen, and Tom followed. "What are we dancing to?"

"Music of our hearts," Chris said.

Tom smiled. "More romantic fodder."

"Says the man who reads poetry to me at the table," Chris chided, quoting the many times that Tom had shared his newest finds over dinner.

"Chris, I don't want us to get stuck," Tom said, segueing into the talking part without preamble.

"Stuck?" Chris turned them a few times and then slowly danced them towards the living room.

"I can't settle on being your secret," Tom said.

It stopped Chris short and they hovered uneasily in the doorway between kitchen and living room. "My secret?" he said incredulously.

Tom sighed and nodded shortly. He changed their grips and took over, leading Chris through the door frame and around the sofa.

"That's unfair," Chris finally said.

"I know."

Chris didn't know what to think, so he just let Tom take over the lead and followed his steps, noticing after a while that he was relaxing into his sure grip and honestly had no idea where they would step next before they already did.

It was a familiar feeling, something that their friendship was built on. From the start, on the set as they worked together, there had always been situations when they had had to trust each other completely; some complicated dialogue, a difficult stunt, a set of choreographed moves. This wasn't different.

"I love you," he finally exhaled.

"Love you, too." Tom pulled him closer and rested his chin on Chris' shoulder.

Chris did the same, closing his eyes, just getting lost in being lead. Tom started humming into his ear; a melody he didn't recognize, but it set their steps to a tune, and he followed his lover blindly, relaxing enough to realize that they did move against each other, and how lovely Tom's body felt against his. It was always good to return to that, especially when they were disagreeing, to just find that spot knowing how incredible lucky it was that they had each other, that Tom was his, and he was Tom's.

"Better?" Tom asked.

Chris just squeezed his middle.

"Fred called me today," Tom confided.

It brought Chris up short. "When were you going to tell me?" he asked, stopping to look Tom in the eye.

Tom shrugged. "Tomorrow, maybe? After our anniversary?"

So that was it.

"What did he say?"

Tom pressed his lips together and shook his head.

"Sit down." Chris nudged him towards the sofa.

"It can wait...?" Tom asked hopefully.

"Really?"

Tom sagged against the backrest. "Maybe not." He pulled up his legs and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees. Chris wished they had already cleaned up and would sit here with a cup of tea in a bit of a more informal setting, both of them having put away the stress of the day to find time to be with each other. He sat down with Tom, already knowing that the news couldn't be positive, or Tom would've told him a lot sooner.

"What did he say?" Chris asked, nudging Tom's leg with his own.

"It wasn't nice," Tom said plainly, picking at nonexistent lint.

"I gathered as much."

"It was about the picture we sent," Tom said. He exhaled and looked at Chris. "They opened the card when other relatives were there who had no idea that we're together."

"Oh." Chris grimaced. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Tom held his eyes. "Fred told me to stop embarrassing my mother, that sending that picture had been absolutely tasteless. _Tasteless_." He hit his forehead. "Can you believe that?"

"That's crass," Chris said. "It's not like we did anything but be in a picture together and smile. We should have sent them one of the others...?"

Tom shot him a look with a hint of amusement in it. "I didn't really mean to embarrass them."

"I know, I know." Chris backpedaled. "Was that all he said?"

"He said my mother was absolutely heartbroken over me ignoring her and never calling..."

"But she told you not to call unless you leave me?" Chris said. His own words made him sit up and take notice; at what point had he started to take for granted that Tom was putting his relationship with half of his family on the line just to be able to be with him?

"I asked him the same thing. I said I loved you and want to be with you, and I would love nothing so much than celebrate that with them, but that mum had been very clear about me not to call if we were still together. He called me selfish and ungrateful and... and I may have lost my cool and hung up on him at that point." He rubbed his nose. "It sucks."

"What time did he call?"

Tom shrugged. "Um, around two or three, I think?"

"And you've sat on that for the whole day?"

"I didn't have time to call you," Tom defended himself, then must have realized that it was a poor excuse. "I'm sorry, I felt... I needed to figure out how I felt about the whole thing. I was pretty upset."

"I was just trying to make sure because I thought we'd agreed to call if something happens...?" Chris said. Sometimes he was reminded of how young their relationship still was, and how often they had to stop to figure something out on the way that didn't come to them naturally. "What do you need me to do?"

"Be my date on Sunday?" Tom repeated his earlier question.

Suddenly, it made sense. Chris blew out a short laugh. "Are you asking me to get back at them?" he wanted to know.

"No," Tom said, and his voice turned softer. "I do it because I love you and I want you to be there."

"And would you have asked me even if Fred hadn't called?"

"Yes." It came out so naturally that Chris had no reason to doubt it.

Chris blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. It was quiet for a while, the only sound the ticking of Tom's grandfather's clock.

"No?" Tom asked, and it wasn't a pressured question. Tom was curious, trying to understand.

"Now I'm feeling a bit embarrassed," Chris admitted, smiling apologetically at Tom.

"Why?" Tom inclined his head.

"Because I was the one who... well... basically kicked you into this relationship," Chris said. "You were the one with the doubts."

"You have doubts?"

Chris shook his head. "More..." He sighed. He'd already had his counseling for the day and was not prepared to have to open up again, and he didn't know how much of what was going through his head – still quite unfinished – their relationship could carry.

"Hey." Tom scooted closer and took his hand, entwining their fingers. "I love you, you know that?"

"Yeah." Chris gave him a thankful smile. "I know. I do. Just kind of.. it's all weird and upside-down at the moment. In here, I mean." He indicated his chest. "And between us, I mean..." He blew out a laugh. "Look at you being all brave and wanting to come out."

"I didn't say I wanted to come out," Tom said.

Chris gave him a raised brow. "Sounded like it."

"Honey, you taught me that loving you is nothing to be ashamed about," Tom said.

"I'm not ashamed!" Chris defended himself and realized the same moment that he'd been too loud. "I'm not ashamed," he repeated, a little quieter. "I guess I'm just... I..."

Tom waited it out with him, rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand.

"It's easier when I'm the strong one," Chris said. "Who comforts you."

"It's okay," Tom assured him. "I can take it."

"Argh." Chris leaned his head forward and rubbed through his hair, leaving it disheveled and unruly, and a great place to hide behind.

Tom didn't say anything, just kept holding his hand.

Chris realized he wouldn't get out of this one. "I feel like... I'm in the wrong skin," he finally said, still tasting every word as he spoke it. "I know how to be with you, but I don't... know how... how to be _this_."

"Gay?" Tom said softly.

Chris shrugged. "I never... thought about it, Tom. Just... love is love."

"It is." Tom squeezed his hand. "And I do love you with all my heart."

"I love you, too." Chris decided to come out of his hiding place and lifted his head to look into his boyfriend's loving eyes. The expression in them made him melt on the spot. "Damn."

"I know." Tom brushed some of the unruly hair out of his eyes. "That's what I concentrate on. When I want to remember what's important, I think of this."

"But they see something else."

"What do _you_ see?"

Chris chuckled self-deprecatingly. "You and Michael would get along swell," he grumbled good-naturedly.

"What do you see?" Tom insisted quietly.

"That I don't quite know any more who I am, Tom." Finally, it was out. "I fee like I'm coming apart at the seams. I don't know how to be with you in public when I still feel like... I don't even know yet what's going on with me."

"I don't understand," Tom admitted.

"I'm so testy about everyone who makes remarks about us," Chris said. "And it doesn't matter if it's good or bad remarks. I'm supposed to feel a certain way about it – cool and whatnot – and all I am is confused and fed up."

"So asking you to be my date is a bit early, huh?" Tom asked.

"I don't even... I'm more upset about the good remarks, I guess," Chris ignored his question. "When you talk about Fred and what he said, it's like of course I'm expecting them to be upset about it, and then when Natalie goes on and on about how normal and natural it all is, that just rubs me the wrong way. If it was that natural and normal, I could just hold and kiss you in public, and I can't."

Tom's reaction was interesting; he just mustered him carefully.

"What?" Chris asked, more frustrated with himself than anything else.

"Was that what you didn't want to talk about last night?" Tom asked softly.

Chris hated to be this vulnerable, hated being called out. "Maybe," he grumbled. "I don't know."

Tom scooted ever closer and lifted an arm invitingly, indicating that he was available for a cuddle.

Chris' pride held out for exactly two seconds and then he found himself wrapped around his boyfriend, one leg across his lap, the other around his back, with his head against Tom's temple and Tom's arm around his shoulders.

Finally, he exhaled.

"I love you so much, you stupid, stubborn man," Tom told him earnestly, placing a kiss on his forehead.

"Meh."

"I know." Tom rubbed his back and it felt entirely too good.

Chris closed his eyes and pressed his nose against Tom's neck. "Some anniversary," he murmured.

"Yeah," Tom said, and it didn't sound regretful at all.

  


* * *

  


They ended up showering after all, changing into comfortable pajamas and thick socks and met back on the sofa, the table laden with comfort food and drinks: chocolate milk with marshmallows for Chris, Chai and hob nobs for Tom.

Chris wanted to point out that this, also, wasn't very anniversary-like, but being curled up against Tom was such a luxury that he didn't quite have the heart to protest.

"Are we getting dull?" he wanted to know, wiggling his toes in his thick socks.

"Not many people I get to be this comfortable with," Tom said. "Besides, the day's not over yet."

"Your eyelids are drooping," Chris pointed out.

"I'm trying to look seductive," Tom defended himself, pursing his lips and drawing his eyebrows together to complete the look.

They both chuckled.

"Let me try something," Chris suggested. "Lie back, babe."

"Nothing strenuous," Tom said, yawning, and then caught himself. "Sorry."

"Close your eyes and think of England," Chris instructed.

Tom giggled, but got comfortable.

"You don't have to do a thing," Chris assured him.

"Hm," Tom murmured. "If it's too relaxing I might fall asleep on you."

"That's okay, I was just going to use you selfishly for my pleasure anyway." Chris winked at him while he got busy unbuttoning Tom's pajama top from the bottom up. "Close your eyes," he urged. "I want you to relax."

Tom did as he was bid and wiggled himself into the sofa cushion. His right hand came to rest on Chris' head, softly stroking through his hair.

Chris forgot for a moment what he was up to and started to purr.

"So that still works," Tom murmured and smiled.

"Always." Chris caught the hand and kissed his palm. He too, was tired, and the talk they'd had had left him filled with sadness; the same sadness that he'd felt earlier with Michael, and he still didn't know where it came from. He transferred his lips to Tom's stomach, placing tender kisses around his belly button. He peeked up.

Tom smiled, his eyes still closed. "That's nice."

But Chris realized that he was too tired to get into it. "We don't have to do anything if you don't feel like it."

"I'm just so tired, sweetheart."

"Hm." Chris nudged him until Tom let him lie between his legs, and rested his head against Tom's naked stomach. Tom kept combing his fingers through his hair in soothing strokes, and Chris allowed himself to just be in the moment, sighing with contentment. "This is so indulgent."

"Uh-huh." Tom sounded half asleep.

"Don't fall asleep," Chris said quietly. "I don't want to be alone."

"You're never alone," Tom said. "I'm here."

Chris was dismantling his whole life. It had taken him a long time to arrive at this place, standing still long enough for all the decisions that he'd made to catch up with him, not having to dive immediately into the next desperate thing that needed rescuing or dealing with. And it left him in free fall, with the only familiar anchor the man he was currently lying on top of, his last tether. And just thinking of it caused a wave of love to roll over him, making him want to tie himself to this man to the end of his days. Every fiber of his being told him that he'd made the right decision, that he was where he needed to be.

"Tell me again," he said, feeling for the amulet around Tom's neck, the amulet with his promise to Tom in it, the promise that he would always come back for more.

"You're never alone, Chris." Tom sounded a bit more alert now. "Hey." He made him look up. "You're never alone."

Chris got on all fours and crawled up Tom's body, very deliberately brushing his cock over Tom's, then brushing his lips over Tom's, needing some way of telling Tom just how much he meant to him. "I. Love. You," he said hoarsely. "From this day to the ending of the world."

"Quote Shakespeare at me, will you?" Tom was charmed.

"It's starting to rub off," Chris admitted. "Does it work?"

"Uh-huh." Tom arched against his body, searching for contact.

Chris flipped open the remainder of Tom's buttons with one hand. "We few. We happy few." He gave Tom a smile.

"God's peace, send not a man from England," Tom quoted back. "I think we few are quite enough."

"You think?" Chris found his entire body brushing against Tom's, sliding along it, and their harsh breaths in reaction to it. He swallowed thickly. "Oh god."

He dipped his head, making love with his lips and tongue to Tom's nipples until his lover was pliant and arching into him, silently begging for more.

"One of those moments I wish I could be inside of you," Chris admitted, his caresses feather light. "Feel you welcome me in, flutter around me as I fill you out, settle inside of you." His hands entwined with Tom's beside his head. "Draw me in as you beg for more, to have you deeper, take you harder." His voice was hoarse with arousal now. "And then have you milk me dry as you come around my cock."

"Fuck," Tom swore softly, pushing up. "And you'd empty yourself inside of me."

"Give you all I have."

"Chris..." It was a choked plea. "Make love with me."

Chris smiled, ducking his head to kiss along the delicious column of Tom's neck. "I thought you'd never ask."

 

* * *

  


A few moments later, they were in bed, Chris tightly ensconced between Tom's legs. The lube made sliding on Tom's cock easy, intimate, transmitting every sensation instantly. Chris took his time, though, relishing Tom's legs wrapped around his hips drawing him in, making him feel so close to Tom.

Chris was leaning on his arms, suspended over Tom as his hips worked against him, drinking in his lover's slightly open mouth, eyes fluttering close under Chris' ministrations, exhaling a soft _oh_ at the end of each thrust.

"You're so beautiful," Chris whispered, knowing full well that Tom was at the verge of falling asleep, and whatever he noticed of what they were doing must feel like he was half-dreaming.

He leaned on one elbow, running his hand over Tom's close-cropped hair and regarded him lovingly, getting a loving smile back.

"I'm sorry I'm so tired on our night," Tom murmured, pulling him down for a kiss. "I love you so much, Chris."

"Hmmm..." Chris picked up his soulful thrusts again, his own cock sliding over Tom's, caressing it. "Love you, too." He felt Tom's thighs around him tighten, his heels digging into his ass.

Tom's legs were so long that his knees were nearly at the height of Chris' ears when he drew them up like this, and Chris turned his head to kiss and nip at the inside of his leg, making Tom hiss and jerk against him. Chris' hand slid down Tom's leg until he could cup his ass, and he slid his thumb into the well lubricated fold between Tom's leg and his balls, relishing the heat. If Tom would enjoy anal intercourse, this would be the prime position to have it in, but Chris had long since fully accepted that this was something that Tom did not relish.

There was no animosity between them about it; if Tom did not enjoy it, Chris wouldn't, either. Only because Tom knew that Chris completely accepted that boundary made it possible to share secret desires like he just had; that sometimes he wished Tom would come with lady parts. Not because he didn't find him not arousing enough as he was – Tom had blown more of his fuses than he had ever known he possessed, and kept finding new ones Chris had had no idea about – but he longed for the deep intimacy of being with him that way, welcomed by his body, sliding in his juices, deeply ensconced in Tom, getting completely lost in his lover.

The mere thought made Chris moan and he picked up the speed of his thrusts. They were a slippery mess from their navels to their balls, creating the illusion of natural lubrication, and Chris kept his hips tight to Tom's to give him something to slide in. Tom bucked against him, and slid his arms around his neck, his torso arching into Chris, turning him into an incoherent mess of desire.

"You're indulging me," he accused Tom, loving every moment of it.

"You're mine," Tom whispered intimately against his ear. "Just mine. No one else gets to do this with you."

"Oh god." Chris could feel his balls draw close to his body.

"You're so good at this," Tom murmured, his fingernails lazily sliding across Chris' back. "Making love to me."

Chris very distinctly felt that Tom had just swallowed a "Fucking me" and exchanged it against something else the last second, which made him even crazier. "Yeah?"

"Have me, Chris." Tom's fingernails dug into his back.

"Tom..." Chris picked up his thrusts, feeling Tom's cock rise against his own. "Let me have you."

"Come to me, Chris." Tom's hands slid down and grabbed his ass uncompromisingly. "Come inside of me. Come."

"Tom..." Chris heard his voice take on a higher pitch, the sheer loveliness of his lover too much for his senses. He thrust against him desperately, imagining that he was inside him, welcomed, Tom's body drawing him in, hungry for his seed.

"Fill me," Tom whispered urgently into his ear. "Chris, please, leave me dripping."

"Oh the fucking... Christ... fuck... oh my god." Chris came so violently; it felt as if his whole body was contracting with his cock, drawing his come from every crevice of his body. He shivered and shook, and then Tom arched against him and came, himself, the way his cock pulsated against his own drawing out his last spurts, so lovely, so deep.

"I love you I love you I love you I love you." Chris found himself senselessly murmuring against his lover's sweaty temple as they trembled with aftershocks.

"Yours," Tom assured him, his eyes glassy, voice shaking with emotion. "Just yours, Chris."

There was no way they could be closer. It had to be enough.

  


* * *

  


And yet it turned twelve, and Chris was still wide awake.

He'd cleaned them up, he'd curled around Tom, they had murmured endearments and held each other until Tom couldn't fight sleep any more, until the long day had finally caught up with him.

Chris held him gently, relishing the moment, Tom's angel-like expression while he slept, the way his body was so warm against his own, and so alive. And each time Chris tried to get lost in their closeness, and drift off to sleep, himself, some niggling thing in the back of his mind kept jerking him awake time and again.

He didn't want to leave Tom, but he didn't want to wake him up, either. A measure of his love was how much he cared about his lover's well-being, wanting him to be well-rested for the long rehearsal tomorrow, and at his best, and knowing that what was going on with himself was something that Tom might be able to witness, but not really be able to help him with.

At twelve thirty, he decided that lying in bed would not solve the issue. He made sure to extract himself gently, then wrapped himself in his robe and tiptoed out of the bedroom.

Their things were still on the couch table, giving him something to focus on. He cleaned up and fixed himself a new cup of tea, having discovered a preference for the brew since living with a man who had several pots of it a day. He wrapped a warm blanket around himself as he sat on the sofa and took the first sip, the quietness of the flat pressing on his ears.

Everyone he loved was here, everyone under his care, under his protection. It was a responsibility he cherished, and yet, when things were so topsy-turvy inside of him, he had to concede that having your loved ones so close could still leave you achingly alone.

He put down the cup and picked up his phone, his heart beating in his chest like a drum. He unlocked it, then just clenched it in his hands, he tapped it against his forehead, the knot in his stomach drawing ever tighter. He had to do this. He had to. It was like being in a birth canal; he was ever so moved forward without his volition by a process he had started, but had long since felt he had lost control over because it was so damn inevitable. And with each passing day in his relationship with Tom he was moved further into the process, there was no stopping it. He didn't want it to stop. But while he was working towards something new, he felt so unhinged and so unfinished that he wished he could speed up the process – and then again not. It took the time that it took and it was as uncomfortable as hell while it did.

One thirty. Chris grimaced, his stomach tied in knots upon knots. He took another sip of tea. It was cold. If only each time you made a move like this, it would not leave you so damn vulnerable, so naked to other people's judgment and scrutiny, if you didn't have to bare your innermost feelings to make them understand just how inevitable it all was, without lying.

"But I can't wake up tomorrow and it's still like this," he argued with himself. "I can't pretend that I'm happy with how it is, and that it's enough." Because it wasn't, he felt it in his bones.

His eyes were almost closed as he unlocked his phone again. One forty-three in London, ten forty-three in Sydney. With trembling fingers, he dialed.

Upon the third ring, the receptionist picked up. "Fuller, Hardy and Partners, how can I help you?"


	5. Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris spills the beans on who he called that night. The little family spends an evening with friends.

"Da da da da!"

"No, no, India, Tom is still asleep. Shhh."

"Da da da!"

"Sweetie, he has a long day. We'll cuddle him later. Come on, let's get you your breakfast, huh?"

  


Tom groaned and turned over, stretching. He yawned and scratched his chest, then stretched again. Smacking his lips, he opened his eyes and checked the time: 8:30. Getting up this late was a luxury he wasn't often prone to.

For a fleeting moment, he thought guiltily that he should've got up earlier and gone for a run. Then he cuddled himself in one more time, his nose deeply in Chris' pillow, enjoying the fact that he only had to leave by twelve to be on time for the dress rehearsal.

He missed lazing about with Chris in the morning since India had moved in. It was hardly a day that they were up earlier than India and had nowhere to go right then. Chris had tried to bring her to their bed once, but Tom was uncomfortable with the idea. He was sharing everything he had with the baby, and for some reason, he really needed something left just for himself and Chris. Apart from the fact that they did very adult things in that bed that sometimes left traces until the next morning, he was also usually sleeping in the nude. There was something about the intimacy of his bed that he felt really uncomfortable sharing with Elsa's baby. After a first moment of surprise, Chris had respected his wishes. When he was up early with his daughter, they often cuddled out on the recliner or even on India's play rug, and Chris made sure to carry her around skin-on-skin for a while after they had bathed to make sure she had enough body contact.

It was lovely to watch, and Tom was content not to be a part of it; some things should belong only to Chris and India. But he missed waking up in Chris' arms, the warmth and closeness, the lazy, sleepy kisses and caresses and the half-awake tender lovemaking that set the mood for his whole day.

He loved India, and he had made his peace with her being there, but a very small part of him had to admit that he was looking forward to giving her back to her mother for a few days sometime soon, and indulge in some time alone with Chris. Every so often, it became achingly obvious that they were still so early in their relationship and were so desperate to be together _right then_. When the days were long and they were already tired from work and other commitments, their energy levels were hardly enough to manage India – and when she was finally settled, they often were too tired to act on their needs.

In the long run, it was a frustrating state of affairs.

Tom sighed, remembering that he had really hurried their lovemaking along last night to make sure he was awake for the finale. As sweet as it was that he was well-versed enough in getting Chris hot, bothered, and off in a very short time, it was not his preferred mode of lovemaking.

He finally got up for a quick loo run, then got into comfortable clothing and trudged into the kitchen, where father and daughter were waiting by the stove for India's water to heat.

"Hello baby," he greeted India, who bounced excitedly on her father's arm upon seeing him.

"Good morning, Chris." He had no compunctions about wrapping himself around Chris' unoccupied side, relishing his warmth through his cotton shirt, kissing him softly. "Missed you when I woke up."

"Hmm." Chris seemed very happy to indulge him. "Slept well?"

"Uh-huh." Tom wanted nothing so much than just stay like this. "I'm sorry I was so tired last night."

"It's okay." Chris had to adjust the excited baby.

"Cuddle with me when she's taking her nap?" Tom asked, knowing he sounded like a jealous sibling.

"Cuddle with us while I feed her?" Chris proposed. "Hey."

"I don't want to leave today," Tom mewled. "I haven't had my fill of you yet."

"Hey, hey, look at me, honey?"

When Tom did, it warmed him to the bone.

"You, me, India, comforter, play rug?" Chris suggested. "Cuddle pile?"

"Okay." Tom simply rested his head against Chris' and closed his eyes while waiting for the water to boil.

Ten minutes later, they were down on the play rug, which Tom had padded with a couple of fluffy blankets. Chris got a pillow and settled India in his left arm, while Tom smoothed himself to his right side and drew the comforter over all three of them. He reached over to hold India's bottle and then closed his eyes, his head resting against Chris' massive chest. Chris' arm was wrapped around him, and India's hand held his fast to make sure he would not take the bottle away again.

"I miss you," Tom said after a long while of nothing but India's sucking noises. "Just waking up with you and having a whole day to ourselves, I miss that."

"I know."

Tom felt his arm contract around him and cuddled himself back in. Just to be able to bask in this was such a gift. He inhaled it for as long and as deeply as he could.

"Have you... Did you go to sleep with me last night?" Tom asked, suddenly remembering that Chris had... had asked him not to fall asleep because he didn't want to be alone. "Oh Chris, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Chris assured him. "Couple of things I needed to do on my own."

"You got up again?" Tom turned to look at his lover, alarmed.

"Yeah." Chris' hand gently cupped Tom's face and traced his cheekbone with his thumb.

"Were you going to tell me?" He cursed himself for having been so wretchedly tired, already knowing that he probably wouldn't fare much better tonight. For a short moment, he very sincerely hated his life and his career and that he hadn't known before that he would fall in love so deeply and would not have time for work and juries and awards ceremonies.

"Yeah." Chris smiled at him, a touch sadly. "I had to make a call to Australia."

"Chris, I'm really sorry I fell asleep on you!"

"I asked my lawyer to start what needs to be done to file for divorce," Chris said calmly. "I kind of had to do that on my own." His forefinger traced around Tom's ear.

Tom's mind went blank for a moment. Then his next thought was India, he was almost tempted to cover her ears so she wouldn't hear it said.

"I know," Chris said. "I had to do it but I could hardly look her in the eye this morning."

"Why?" Tom asked. "Last night? Was that... were you thinking... planning to..."

"I just couldn't sleep," Chris said. "I needed to do something."

"Was it... something I said? All that talk about you being away for the summer and all that...?"

"No. Just me needing to do something really necessary." Chris traced his thumb over Tom's lower lip. "Adjust the facts to how I feel."

"How do you feel?" Tom's heart was beating so hard in his chest. Chris had done something so mature... without him, but still kind of for him. He wasn't sure if he'd been sleeping through being needed, or if it was really something Chris had had to do on his own... he suspected the latter. Tom's respect for Chris and his integrity went completely through the roof. And then... Chris would be free. His marriage would be completely over. Done with.

"Better," Chris said. "It was like a nagging thing in the back of my mind that really needed to be done. Put my money where my mouth is. Literally." He laughed softly. "I want to know what kind of money I can spend on our house, what and how much of what I'm going to make is going to Elsa and India. I want that settled. Turn a leaf over. Write a new story with you."

All Tom could do was settle his chin on Chris' chest and look at him. No piece of that decision was his or had been his to make. He was so proud of Chris.

"Okay?" Chris asked, raising his brows at Tom.

"Yeah." He couldn't stop looking at him. His heart felt as light as a feather.

Tom was suddenly wide awake.

  


* * *

  


"So he's filing for divorce?" Luke was fiddling with his phone without turning it on. "Tom, that's huge."

"I know." Tom's heart was still starting to pound in his chest each time he thought about it.

"Are you ready for that?" Luke asked expectantly.

"Completely." Tom exhaled. "I thought... I don't know what I thought how I'd react but I was just stupidly relieved when he told me."

"Can I already hear the wedding bells ringing?" Luke cuffed him playfully and grinned.

Tom blushed. "Ah... nah... heh heh heh heh heh." He brushed a hand through his hair. "Nah."

"You're such a rotten liar," Luke said, satisfied. "Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't say yes."

"Oh god." Tom laughed. "Stop."

"Tell me you wouldn't say yes," Luke needled. "I just want to hear it once."

"Luke, it's just been six weeks," Tom defended himself. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"Six weeks, huh?" Luke gave him a probing look.

"And he hasn't even talked with Elsa about it, and... I have no idea how long divorce proceedings usually take in Australia, they may have to live apart for at least a year or something for it to go through. I was so dumbstruck, I didn't ask." A pall settled over his good mood suddenly. "I hope that's not it."

"Would you. Say yes?"

"Yeah, yeah, will you shut up about it?" Tom blushed vividly. "This is the most romantic man on the face of the earth we're talking about here. He insists on celebrating every week's anniversary with me. If he actually wanted to propose, he would pull something so terribly romantic and out there that I wouldn't have a chance in... god, what am even I saying?" He threw Luke a disapproving look for nearly spilling the beans about how he felt about Chris. "Gay men are so the worst saps ever."

Luke laughed out loud. "You don't know the half of it." He gave Tom a quick hug. "Just happy for you, pal." He clapped him on the back. "You both deserve each other."

"That sounds ominous." But he couldn't suppress a happy grin.

"Romantic, huh?" Luke had too much fun needling him. "I need details."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Not fit for public consumption." He blushed. _Again_.

They were quiet for a moment. The Opera House's lobby was almost deserted as they sat and waited for Chris to pick them up. Luke had come by to discuss tomorrow's red carpet protocol with the management and had stuck around to wait for Tom to finish his rehearsal. Chris and Tom were invited for dinner at Steve and Luke's who were very excited for a chance to spend time with India.

"Just asking," Luke said quietly. "Steve and I have been together for a while now, and sometimes we hardly see each other. Easy to forget a relationship needs more than just sharing a flat."

"It isn't easy," Tom agreed in the same quiet tone. "I feel the same way sometimes. I guess because everything's still so new, we're making the effort, but even then... sometimes it's not enough." He looked at Luke, who looked back at him expectantly.

Why was he sitting here giving a man advice who had been in a gay relationship so much longer than him, and should be able to teach him a thing or two? But there was no guile in Luke's look, he was just a friend genuinely looking for advice.

"Eh, let's see," Tom said. "It's kind of... the little things, really. Eh... Chris sometimes leaves little notes for me. Just small stuff, thank you for last night, things like this... it just makes a difference, and I get to take them with me if I want to." Truth be told he had a little box he kept them all in but he wouldn't admit to that. "And he loves flowers, so... he just leaves them for me in odd places to find. I guess it's just... he takes time to make sure I know what I mean to him."

"Easy to forget," Luke said. "You kind of start taking each for granted."

"I took him on a night boat ride on the Thames once," Tom recalled, not wanting to seem as if he didn't reciprocate. "Dinner and the whole deal."

"That was before India came to live with you, right?" Luke asked.

"Yeah."

"Is she... making things more difficult?"

"It's harder to find time alone, yes," Tom frankly admitted. "I mean, she's a really good little girl. She takes easily to routines and is usually out like a light after nine. But you can't just spontaneously go out to dinner, everything needs to be planned in advance."

"Does she keep you up at night a lot?"

"Not really. We usually tire her out in the evening. Nine times out of ten she falls asleep on one of us while we read to her." He smiled fondly. "It's actually really cute."

"I hope she likes us," Luke said hopefully.

"She might be a bit shy at first, but she's so easy to please," Tom said. "Just let her come to you."

"Do you feel very Daddy-like towards her?" Luke asked frankly.

"No," Tom had to admit.

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know." Tom sighed and adjusted his tie. "She's Chris' daughter first and foremost. I love her – she's so cute, how could I not? - but I don't feel like she's my child per se. We take care of her together, and that can be a bonding experience. India and I sure have bonded, and she does ask for me to hold her and play with her, but... I don't really know what it is, but it's pretty clear she doesn't think I'm her second Daddy, either. She'll be ecstatic when Elsa comes back."

"Does that... I don't know, make you sad?"

"No." They got into very deep territory now, but it also felt really good to be able to talk so freely about it. "She's her mother, and of course she misses her. I'm not jealous of Elsa, not for India's sake."

Luke was very quiet for a while as they stared into the rainy street.

"Why are you asking?" Tom finally broke the silence. "Something you're thinking about...?"

Luke shrugged. "You getting India got me thinking," he said quietly. "Steve and I have been talking about wanting kids, but we never did anything about it. I mean, if you and Chris can manage it..." He gave him a hopeful look.

"Listen, if you wanted to adopt, I'm sure that would be a very different thing. That child would be yours, you'd be her fathers, no doubt about it. Don't back out of it because of how I feel about India," Tom said. "That's a completely different thing. You wouldn't have to deal with Steve's ex-wife for your child's sake."

"So that is a problem."

"It's been a problem the last time she showed up, so I'm a bit nervous for her to come back, yes," Tom said frankly. "But less nervous than I was, knowing that Chris is..." he drew a deep breath. "Knowing that Chris is looking to divorce her." Again, his heartbeat picked up with happiness. "Gosh, look at me."

"So, every week's anniversary, huh?" Luke teased, smiling. "How's that work?"

Tom thought back to last night and knew he hadn't made the most of it. "I can't let that start to slide," he said. "Thank you for reminding me."

"If you say that, as the most in-love couple in love that I know, I need to pick up my romancing," Luke sighed. "So, notes, flowers, dinner on a boat...?"

"And lots of R-rated things," Tom grinned. "That I will not share with you."

  


* * *

  


Chris arrived a short time later, drawing into the taxi lane. They hurried out, covering their heads because of the rain, and quickly got into the car, Tom in front, Luke in the back with India throning in her car seat.

"Hey Luke," Chris said. "Good to see you, man. Sorry for the squeeze."

"Hi Chris, don't worry, not bothered." Luke smiled brightly at India. "Hi India, nice to see you!"

India took a look at him, and then a look at Chris, as if to ask who this strange man was and if she had reason to cry or not.

"It's okay, honey, it's just Luke," Tom soothed. "You've already met him, remember?"

"That was very quick, I'm sure you forgot," Luke assured her.

"Here, give her one of these," Chris suggested, handing him a biscuit. "She'll be fine." He reached back and stroked over India's leg. "It's fine, India, don't worry."

Luke held out the biscuit. "Would you like that, India?"

She eyed him very carefully, the sweet biscuit in his hand so tempting. Very slowly, she curled her fingers around it and then yanked it out of his hand and stuffed it into her mouth, giving him a triumphant look.

Tom chuckled. "There, see? Ice broken. You'll be fine." He patted Luke's knee and then turned towards Chris. "Hey honey."

"Hey." Chris' face lit up, and the smile grew exponentially larger when Tom followed up with a quick kiss. They had so little chance to be affectionate in public, and it had taken Tom a while to get over his inhibitions. But he knew how much it meant to Chris to have friends who knew and understood their situation, and so he had made steps to learn to be more comfortable with it.

"Tom and Chris, sitting in a tree," came Luke's lilting voice from the back.

They both grinned.

"You're just jealous," Tom gave back.

Luke snorted. "Who in their right mind wouldn't be?" he said, and continued singing. "K-I-S-S..."

"Here," Chris deadpanned, shoving a biscuit at him. "Have another."

  


* * *

  


The first ten minutes of their arrival in Steve and Luke's high-rise penthouse was spent with Steve making a complete fool of himself over the baby. The whole flat smelled heavenly like the food he had prepared for them, and Tom found himself leaning happily into Chris as Steve took India on his arm and tried his level best to make her giggle.

He felt Chris' arm squeeze around him and beamed at him, allowing the full strength of his feelings to show in his expression. "I love you," he mouthed, feeling a ball of happiness burst in his chest.

"Likewise." Chris smiled and nuzzled against his ear.

"Here, let me take your coats," Luke offered. "I guess this is going to take a while." He inclined his head with an indulgent grin towards Steve.

"Don't worry, you'll get your share," Steve boomed. "After we're done, right, little lady?" He bounced her on his arm. "Oh!" he feigned surprise. "Let me show you the living room, India! We have a surprise for you!"

"Why, exactly, don't they already have fifty children?" Chris murmured into Tom's ear.

"The missing equipment," Tom nodded solemnly.

"Right." They followed Steve and India into the living room.

The couple had bought a little white fluffy rocking unicorn for India.

"This is staying here," Steve announced with a warding brow. "If she likes it, she has to come back for it."

"Okay." Chris laughed, getting on the floor with his daughter and the other man to introduce the baby to the new toy. Steve's deep voice and demeanor had spooked her somewhat, but with Daddy's help, she mounted the fluffy toy on rockers. At first a little skeptical about what she was supposed to do, Chris and Steve started rocking her gently, her back safely supported by the cushioned seat, her little fingers curled around the handles. It only took her a few moments to understand what this was for, and then it was no holds barred.

"I don't think it's going to take a boat ride to have him on board," Tom murmured towards Luke.

Luke blushed beet red. "Shut up."

"Honestly, a note with: 'Will you have my children?' should suffice."

Luke grabbed his arm and pulled him into the kitchen, away from his partner's ready ears.

"What?" Tom was incredibly amused. "You could've told me it was about that."

Luke groaned.

"You should get twins right away or you'll never get to hold that child," Tom predicted, laughing. "I knew Steve was talking about wanting kids, but this is really too precious. Hey." He clapped Luke's back. "Glass of something strong? You look like you could use it."

  


* * *

  


It was almost impossible to extract India from her new toy for dinner, and Luke and Steve had first row seats to a full-blown baby tantrum until she had calmed down and ate dinner with them in Chris' lap, and then had some tea in Tom's while Chris ate. Tom could see Steve and Luke's longing looks, and would have loved to hand the baby over, but she needed a short time-out from all the excitement. So Tom held and rocked her in his lap while they had dessert, and put her down with a toy when they had some coffee after.

He could literally watch Chris relax and open up, and was so glad that the quick dinner idea had worked out for all of them. Chris had been so worried and upset about figuring out his place in the world that Tom felt what he really needed was an environment in which he didn't have to worry about who he was and how he behaved with Tom, at all. Truth be told, it was lovely to be able to reach out and rest his hand on Chris' back during the conversation without wondering if it would alert anyone to the real status of their relationship. Or simply to talk about everything in his life without having to censor himself constantly. And after his family's hurtful reaction he, himself, was in need of a big dose of normal, acceptance, and laughter, as well.

While Steve cleared the table, Chris and Tom sat down with Luke to discuss tomorrow's awards ceremony.

"I'm not sure what to expect," Chris voiced his hesitation. "God knows I love watching Tom do his thing, but we're... well, I'm not ready to come out, there is still too much hanging in the balance. It's just too early."

"Have you talked with Andrea about it?" Luke asked after Chris' publicist.

"She's less worried than I am, to be honest," Chris said. "Said it would do me good to pick up a bit of an independent vibe, broaden my pull."

"You could just look at it like that, yeah." Luke nodded. "Just saying that Tom had spoken so highly of the British independent scene that you were curious to get an inside look."

"That's not a bad hook, Chris," Tom said. "I can really introduce you to a few people if you want me to."

"Are you looking to meet people for potential jobs?" Chris asked him.

Tom shrugged. "It's always a good thing to stay open to possibilities," he said noncommittally.

"Then I'll lend my clout to get you what you want," Chris said. "I can work with that."

Tom saw Luke suppress a grin and kicked him. "Stop it."

"What'd I miss?" Chris asked, looking from one to the other.

Tom gave Luke a warning look. "He's been teasing me all evening about you," Tom said. "Just don't pay attention to him."

Chris chuckled and leaned back in his seat. "I hope it's been a good tease?" he asked.

"The best," Luke assured him. "Back to tomorrow; do you have any more questions or worries?"

"I can go with that slant," Chris said. "How are we seated?"

"There are tables," Tom said. "It's not in rows. We'll sit with other jury members."

"Anyone who knows we're together?" Chris asked.

"No. But they're all eager to meet you and very excited that you're coming," Tom said. Chris had opted out of meeting them informally today before he had a chance to talk with Luke.

"Were you worried about giving yourself away?" Luke asked.

Chris shrugged and looked at Tom, and for a moment, there was that sadness again. Tom nodded and reached over to press his hand.

"It's a strange situation," Chris said. "It's just weird to have to watch what you're doing in public like that. Like, how much... I don't know... pride, I guess, is too much? Can I hug Tom when he comes back from the stage, or..."

"You can do everything you used to do before," Luke said. "If you don't want to give yourself away that is."

"Give us the rundown," Tom prompted. "Because we never saw each other interact."

Luke smiled. "You've always used to hug and touch in public," he said. "You've always seemed very fond and proud of each other. Your eyes light up when you see each other across the room and then there's kind of a gravitational pull until you meet in the middle."

Tom smiled, he'd known all that but he had to let Chris hear it. "Can Chris hug me when I come back from the stage after I've held a speech?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"Can he shadow me for the night?"

"Since you're the host who introduces him everywhere, and he's your guest, I don't see why not."

"So what you're saying is as long as I don't French kiss Tom in front of everyone we should be okay?" Chris asked sarcastically. It was clear he was still bothered about the whole thing.

Tom let what he'd said sit for a moment. He didn't know how personal Chris felt he could be in front of Luke. "I want you there," he said quietly. "But if it makes you this uncomfortable I think it's not a good idea."

Luke looked from one to the other, his expression neutral but interested. He didn't seem to think the topic had turned too personal.

"I am so bad at hiding," Chris said. "And so horrible at lying."

"Let me ask you, would you have been overtly affectionate with Elsa if you went to a show like that?" Luke asked.

"We could hold hands," Chris said. "Or even kiss. I could take her to dance."

"Chris..." Tom squeezed his hand.

"It just bothers me to no end that I can't do these things like every straight couple could."

"You could if you came out." Steve pushed away from the kitchen door with a small tray of digestifs. He settled the shots in front of them and put the tray away, then joined them at the table.

"It's not that easy," Chris said.

"What's holding you back?" Steve asked reasonably.

"I don't think pushing anyone to come out is helping," Tom said.

Steve turned to him. "What's holding _you_ back?"

"Leave Tom alone about it," Chris said, and there was a slight hint of threat in his voice. "If you want to go at someone, go at me. He wants me there and I'm a chicken."

"I'm not asking to rile you up," Steve said. "But maybe they're good reasons. Maybe they're not. You won't know until they're on the table."

Now it was really personal. Maybe, Tom mused, everything to do with being gay was personal. Who you fell in love with, who you were with, were all very personal questions.

"I'm just not there yet," Chris said. "I don't know what else to say."

"You?" Steve asked Tom.

"If he isn't coming out, I'm not coming out," Tom said reasonably. "And it's not about coming out for me tomorrow. I'm presenting at an event I've been looking forward to for a long time, and I have a partner I want to share that with. And this one is an event where I can reasonably take him – people know Elsa is off to shoot a movie, some know he lives with me for the duration, and because we've been friends for so long, we can sell it in a way that won't look suspicious. We told Elsa we wouldn't come out until we've talked to her."

"That's getting harder, though," Chris supplied.

"At least _told_ her first, Chris," Tom said. "It's the decent thing to do."

"And what if we slip tomorrow?" Chris asked.

"I think when you know there are 5000 pairs of eyes on you, and a couple of cameras, you keep yourself under control," Luke said.

"If we slip, we slip," Tom said quietly. "I'm okay with that." He held Chris' searching eyes, until the other man was finally giving him a slight nod.

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

And there was the fond smile. "Yeah. I can roll with that."

  


* * *

  


When India started to become undeniably cranky from being tired and overexcited at once, they reluctantly started to slowly pack up and ready to leave.

"Next time you're coming to our place, so you can stay longer," Chris said. "Sorry for the short notice."

"It was great to have you," Steve assured him. "Any time, really, as long as you bring that cutie." He ducked and smiled at India, who was sitting on Chris' arm. "Hm, little one? Come back to play with that..."

"Don't say it," Chris cautioned. "Or we'll have the next fit on our hands." He'd had his hands full when he had last changed and dressed her; she was slippery as an eel and really didn't want to wear her jacket.

"Here, let me have her." Tom took the baby to give Chris a chance to get zippered up. "Do we have everything? Nappies? Wipes? Toys? Tea bottle?"

"I rinsed that for you and put it back in the bag," Luke assured him.

"Thanks. I really need to remember to put it in the sterilizer when we get home. We're down to two of those small bottles and we need them all the time." He rocked India when she made a face that was just a trigger away from a tired wail. "Ah, where did I put the dummy..."

"This?" Luke had found the chain attached to India's jacket.

"Ew, would you run that under water for me? It looks nasty."

"Sure thing." Luke went off with the dummy.

Tom played with India to distract her until Luke was back. "Look what Luke's got, India!"

India accepted the dummy and instantly calmed down.

"There you go, honey." Tom kissed the top of her hair and she put her head against his shoulder, one hand playing tiredly with the tag on his zipper.

"No Daddy feelings?" Luke murmured in his direction. "You're so lying."

Tom just smiled, holding India close.

"Baby, nappy bag, Tom." Chris counted. "I think we're ready to go."

"I will see you two tomorrow at a quarter to seven," Luke said, and then ducked to smile at India. "And you..."

"Soon," Chris said. "Let us know when you want to come over on a Saturday, we're happy to have you.

"Deal."

Tom felt Chris' hand against the small of his back as they said their last goodbyes, and then they stepped into the built-in elevator for their ride to the underground car park. It was quiet down there, and they quickly got everything stored. The baby was fussy with the harness that buckled her to the seat. Chris gave her another biscuit to tide her over to her bedtime bottle, but climbed into the passenger seat with Tom instead of in the back with India.

"You sure?" Tom said as he turned on the car.

"Yeah. I'd like to be up front with you."

"Okay." Tom gave him a smile as he navigated towards the exit.

They were quiet while Tom made his way to the motorway. Chris had to make sure India wouldn't fall asleep, but the way back was manageable, time-wise.

"Thank you," he finally said, twisted in his seat so he could provide a finger for India to hold as they rolled home.

"Hm?" Tom shot him a quick look.

"For tonight," Chris said.

"I didn't do anything."

"Yeah, you did." Chris rested his chin against Tom's shoulder and gazed adoringly at him.

"You're welcome, honey." Tom covered Chris' hand on his thigh with his own. "Did it help?"

Chris nodded quietly. India squawked, so he had to turn his head and pay attention to her.

They drove home in companionable silence.


	6. Time out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is hitting the wall, and Chris tries to deal with it - badly. Also: Elsa makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm home for the Easter holiday and have time to write. I don't like to sit on finished chapters, so have another.

Tom was in serious need of a time-out when they got home.

"Would you mind terribly putting her to bed on your own tonight?" he asked when they stepped into the living room with a now seriously cranky India on Chris' arm. "I really need a moment to myself. I'm absolutely knackered."

Chris mustered him critically from head to toe. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just been at the beck and call of a million people today. I could really use some peace and quiet. I think I'm going to run a bath and just veg out for an hour or so."

"Okay." It was clear that Chris had hoped they'd spend the evening together after being alone the whole day with India.

"Thanks for understanding." Tom kissed him on the cheek, and then rubbed noses with India. "Good night, honey."

  


It was one of those moments when it became painfully apparent just how small the space was that they all shared, Tom thought as he trudged into the bathroom. He turned on the heat and gave the tub a quick run through, then started the hot water. Maybe India also needed a bath tonight, but if he needed some time alone, she'd have to wait. Their next house had to have more than one functional bathroom, and he desperately needed his own space.

He realized he'd left his music player in the living room and went to retrieve it, hearing India howl with discontent upstairs as Chris changed her into her pajamas while the water for her bottle heated up. Tom closed the bedroom door behind him and peeled out of his clothes, putting them in the hamper, then padded on naked feet into the bathroom.

There wasn't enough water in the tub yet to cover him, but he got in regardless. The double doors kept out all noises from the baby, but he made sure to plug in the earphones and turned on some classical music while the hot water crept up his body. He was soon submerged in the hot suds, and finally started to relax.

Tom sighed and got lost in the _Adagio_ , completely leaving the day behind.

  


* * *

  


It was always strange to know that Tom was around but not really available. Chris went through the nightly routine with his fussy daughter who whined through every step of the way – protested the clothes change, wailed while waiting for the bottle, and then was so upset when it was finally finished that she spit up half of it and needed another change, which she was also not amused about. Chris finally put her down and took his laptop with him to sit by the crib while she kept shaking herself awake and looking for him.

Apparently, Tom wasn't the only one who was a bit overwhelmed by the day.

He called up India's baby page and opened a new entry, giving a small overview over India's day. He was always honest, including cuddle and play times with Daddy and Tom, her meals and nappy changes, when she'd had a bath – she was due tomorrow – and still, his thoughts returned to Tom asking for some time alone.

The best idea was to just give it to him. Being overly conscientious was just adding to Tom's stress when he got to that point, but Chris had the nagging suspicion that the true key to Tom irrevocably hitting the wall lay in the run-up to the time-out. Dealing with crowds over a longer period of time usually resulted in him wanting a bit of time to himself, which was really understandable, but Chris couldn't shake the feeling that trying to support him through his doubts and fears had also cost Tom a lot. His time-out was an attempt to replenish through some alone time, but because Chris was wired differently, it made him nervous and insecure.

Between this morning, when Tom had clearly expressed his longing for his uninterrupted company and tonight, when he needed to shut himself off completely, something must have been the straw that broke the camel's back.

Chris really didn't want it to be himself.

He sighed, and finished his entry, snapping a quick photo of the now sleeping India, and added it to the post.

He browsed through earlier entries, whose number of hits clearly showed that Elsa did read them. One entry had more than ten hits, and he opened it, curious.

It was one of Tom's, from a couple of days ago when he'd had her on his own all day. He was such a natural with India, and they enjoyed each other so much that Chris sometimes forgot that he wasn't actually bound to be India's caretaker at all, and did all of this because he wanted to, not because he was obliged to. Tom was there when they needed him, no holds barred, adjusted his schedule, took India alone for hours or the occasional full day, cuddled her, changed her, taught her, played with her, fed her...

Chris adjusted in the rocking chair and suddenly felt better about giving Tom the time-out he needed and so rarely asked for.

His chat program suddenly lit up and a message window opened.

"Saw that you were on. Sorry if I'm interrupting."

It was Elsa.

"You're not. Just sitting by the crib waiting for India to settle down."

He'd typed faster than he had thought, and now, of course, he wanted to hit his head for just answering. Yes, Tom was taking a time-out and would not be available right away but what message was he sending to him for immediately striking up a conversation with his ex-wife?

Still, he typed: "What's up?"

Elsa didn't answer immediately. Maybe her messaging him had been as spontaneous as his answer had been. It was so hard to keep a distance when you'd been so close at one time. He always felt like he would rather pick up where they had left off and just be friends. But he was not the one who'd been hurt so much.

"Tom around?" finally came the cautious approach.

"Yes," Chris typed.

"Okay." The line went quiet again for a while, and then: "Did he write the post that said that India misses me?"

Chris drew his brows together, then his eyes fell on the post he had opened earlier. He typed, "Yes."

"Is he good with her?"

"What do you think?"

Chris stared at the blinking cursor for a while. India stirred and spit out her dummy, then nearly woke up looking for it. He levered himself up and put the dummy back in her mouth and she calmed down without waking. When Chris sat down, there was a new message on his laptop:

"Should I even come back?"

Without hesitation, Chris typed: "Yes."

"Why?"

"India needs you," Chris typed. "We don't want to give her up but she really misses you."

"I miss her, too."

He smiled. "That's good." And then. "When are you coming back?"

"Not sure," came her answer, and after a while: "I miss you, too."

He stared at her answer, not knowing what to say. There wasn't really anything he could say; she knew the state of affairs, she knew he wasn't coming back to her.

"That's not good," he typed. "You know I'm staying with Tom."

"I have no idea how I'm supposed to make this work."

"I'm sorry I can't help you with it," Chris wrote. "But I really can't."

Again, the line went quiet. Chris thought of the phone call he'd made last night. It would add more hurt, more pain, more agony to Elsa's life. But he needed it, that cut, so badly.

"Let us know when you come back," he typed. "How you want to do Christmas. I'm taking Tom to L.A. to meet the family, but you're welcome to join us." It sounded pretty ridiculous typed out like that. "Do you really want to spend Christmas without India?"

The window stayed open for a while longer. Elsa's status changed to "Away". Then she logged off without saying another word.

He stared at the screen, feeling angry, lost and hurt. How easy it was to open old wounds and make them bleed again. He wanted to fling the laptop across the room for being so damn helpless, for making Elsa hurt so much that she couldn't even end a conversation with him, and for being such a pain in the ass that Tom needed time away from him. For settling Tom with a child he did not want, and for making such a fuss about an evening that Tom had really looked forward to taking him to.

_What happened to you that makes you feel you need to punish yourself so much for being happy?_

Chris sniffed and wiped his eyes, and closed the chat window. His eyes fell on the post that Tom had put on the message board, the one that Elsa had read again and again. It showed India on their shopping trip to get the present for Tom's new nephews, excitedly looking and pointing at all the toys from the perch of her pushchair, and leaving triumphantly with a stuffed bear clutched in her arms. Chris looked around and saw it sitting in the corner of India's crib. He had not even noticed that it was there.

 _India loves our trips outside,_ Tom had written _. She's so curious and loves life. Everything needs to be introduced and examined, and she talks quite extensively about what she sees and points out all the little wonders in her world. I try to translate and answer as much as I can. Daddy plays rough with her, and India and I talk. Life is magic through India's eyes._

 _On our way back today through the park, India spotted a young woman with a pushchair. We only saw her from the back, and she looked exactly like you: Lithe figure and light blonde hair, dressed in a white winter coat and knee-high boots. India was adamant that we catch up, and she called and called for the woman to stop. The disappointment on her face was heartbreaking when we finally caught up with her and_ _she_ _wasn't you. The lady was very nice and talked with India and me for a while. She had a little boy India's age and we talked about possible future play dates_ _in the park_ _. But India was sad and withdrawn for the rest of the afternoon, and asked for you again and again. I don't know what to tell her._

_She had a one-hour nap and seemed better afterwards, but was in need of a lot of cuddles for the rest of the day._

_She misses you terribly._

  


He'd stared at the entry with tears in his eyes for a long time until he realized that he hadn't moved for so long. The feeling of gratitude for the courageous people in his life who kept trying to make up where he was falling so very short was overwhelming. And there was no anger this time, just love, gratitude, and wanting to know how he could possibly make up for it.

He sniffed and wiped once more, and changed the view on his laptop to the calendar tab. Posting everything on this board had been an ingenious idea, and would provide them with a tool to track India's schedule regardless of where she would stay in the future. Chris opened the current day and quickly filled in India's nap and meal times, then added that she'd be with a babysitter the coming evening because Daddy and Tom were going out. He scrolled forward to Christmas and filled in the dates when Tom and he would be leaving and staying in L.A. And just before that, fit in: "Mommy coming back?" as a fixed date.

Then he opened a mail window and started typing.

"Hi Elsa," the mail started.

"I know things are screwed, and I have no way of making up for it. But I want you to be in India's life. I hope your shoot is going well and you get some distraction, at least. Let us know when you're coming back.

If we don't hear from you, we're happy to take India to L.A. with us for Christmas. But she needs her mommy. We need to figure this out, for her sake.

Please be well,

Chris"

The times when he got by by sticking his head in the sand and ignoring the rest of the world if it didn't suit him needed to be over.

  


* * *

  


Tom stayed in the tub until the water was cold, and then spent a luxuriously long time drying and lotioning, and applying a face mask so he'd look his best tomorrow. He'd noticed that he should have had a manicure one of these days and spent some time filing and polishing his nails until they were up to snuff. Being in the public eye really took some time for the upkeep, and his hands would be in a lot of pictures tomorrow when he was signing photos and interacting with fans. A critical look in the mirror revealed that his hair was just about still okay. When he was filming, he liked to let the set barber take care of it, but because he hadn't been called for three weeks, his hair had grown out somewhat, and started to curl again. He saw a lot of product in his immediate future.

Taking care of a baby really had you slack off on taking care of yourself, he concluded.

Feeling much refreshed, he wrapped himself into his black silk robe, loving the way it felt on his skin, and a pair of black silk boxer briefs. He put on his slippers and went to the living room, just to find it completely empty. When there was also no one in the kitchen, he furrowed his brow and made his way upstairs.

He found Chris in the rocking chair in front of India's crib, immersed in reading something on his laptop. He looked up when Tom opened the door, an expression of insecurity flitting across his face.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah." Tom nodded. "Do you want to go have a shower now?"

He still looked insecure, but closed his laptop, taking a last look at India. "Looks like she's finally settled."

"If she squawks, I'm up now," Tom said quietly. "I'll take care of it."

"Okay." Chris leaned over his daughter's crib, stroking over her head. "Sleep tight, India."

He turned off the reading light so only India's night light remained, and tiptoed out of the room. Unexpectedly, he walked right past Tom to the stairs and started to descend.

"Hey. Chris." Tom came after him. "Sorry for leaving you alone with her tonight."

"Don't worry about it," Chris said.

"Chris." Tom finally caught up with him and grasped his hand. "Hey. Are you upset with me?"

Chris stopped, and sighed, finally turning around to him.

"Chris?" Tom insisted.

"Just don't know what to do when you shut me out like that," Chris said. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. I just hit the wall," Tom admitted. "We came home and suddenly everything was too much."

Chris still looked dejected.

"You know how it is," Tom said. "I just sometimes need a moment to myself."

Chris shrugged. "Okay."

"Honey..." Tom was a little surprised at Chris' reaction.

Chris raised his eyes and looked directly at him. "Can we try," he said, and it sounded forlorn and insistent at the same time, "Can we just try to figure out when you're getting close to it, and then get you to chill before it gets so unbearable to be in a room with India and me that you have to be rid of us right then and there, with no other option?"

Tom blinked.

"Because it feels rotten," Chris said. "Like you'd rather not have us here at all."

"You know that's not true," Tom said. This was not going as planned at all. He'd actually looked forward to seeing Chris' reaction to his sleek outfit. This was not it.

Chris, in the meantime, looked like a dejected six-year-old. "You're not alone any more," he insisted.

"I know." Tom crossed his arms and leaned against the recliner's back. "Does that mean I have to be available _all the time_? Do you have to be available all the time, to me?"

"You told me this morning that you needed more time with me," Chris pointed out. "I just don't get it."

"Okay." Tom sighed. "Spending time with you, just you, is restful. Spending a whole day with people who are all different, who all want different things from me, being friendly and open to all of them, just wears me out. That's no comment on you, it's a comment on them," he made clear.

"And tonight? Luke and Steve?" Chris demanded to know.

"It was an evening with friends, a mostly overtaxed baby that needed soothing, and a very strenuous talk," Tom said.

"We could have done it some other time!"

"But you needed it," Tom said. "You needed that talk with Luke, and I think you needed that evening with both of them, just being normal."

"Did you?"

"Not as much as you, no," Tom admitted. "But I'm fine with it."

"Until we come home and you need to shut yourself off then and there."

"We have different needs at different times, it doesn't mean I don't love you less, or want you here less," Tom pointed out.

"I don't want you to put yourself through this for my sake."

"I wanted you to feel comfortable tomorrow. It was worth it," Tom said. "I had a very, very selfish reason for taking you there tonight. And it's not like I sat there in agony. I like them, too, and we spend far too little time with people who get us, where we can be just ourselves."

"Which we could be if I wasn't so hung up about the whole thing," Chris snorted.

"Are you upset at me, or are you upset at yourself?" Tom asked. "Chris, I don't care. You need as long as you need. You've had the patience of a saint with me when we first started out. You convinced yourself that getting me would solve everything, well, it doesn't. You're only just catching up. Or rather, reality is catching up with you, and that's fine with me. We've got time. I trust you. I have faith in you, in us. We'll get there. It just takes as long as it takes."

"Elsa just talked to me," it burst out of Chris. "Because of the entry you left on the baby board."

"Oh." Now that at least partially explained why Chris was so upset. "What did she say?"

"She chatted me up when she saw that I was just posting something," Chris defended himself. "It was really strange. She asked me if India really misses her, well, she does. I'm not sure if Romania is doing for Elsa what she hoped it would do." Chris took a deep breath. "Why didn't you tell me about seeing someone in the park who looked like Elsa?"

Tom furrowed his brow, thinking back to the day. "Gosh, I don't know."

"I feel super stupid going on about not wanting to be gay and you keep dealing with your family stuff all on your own," Chris said.

"Chris." Tom pushed away from his perch and took a step towards his boyfriend. "This is just who I am. This is how I deal."

"I don't want that," Chris said. "I want you to come to me."

Tom opened his mouth to insist that he did, but then he closed it again, puzzled. "You got up to look for me that night," he said. "What more could I have... I don't know?" He looked at Chris, not sure what was expected of him.

"And then this thing happens when India is super upset about thinking she saw her mom and she didn't stop for her even though she called," Chris said. "Dammit, Tom, just reading what you wrote made me well up. And the next thing your super idiotic family does is spit into your face about you being nice to them and wanting them in your life and you don't even tell me."

"Chris, this is how I deal," Tom insisted, now getting equally upset. "I can't... keep paying so much attention to it!"

"Why not?"

"Because it would hurt too damn much!" Tom yelled. "I've got you now, and India, and a whole new family. I'd rather concentrate on the people who are actually there and want to be with me than... than what's going on with them!"

"I don't want that for you," Chris said. "I don't want you to have to beg for my attention and then having to shut yourself off to deal with everything on your own when I don't give it to you."

"But I was gone all day yesterday and today," Tom said. "There was no chance to talk to you and spend a lot of time with you. I was so tired last night I almost fell asleep while we made love. And tonight, we spent the evening with friends, and I want that to be possible, as well."

"But where does that leave you and me?" Chris asked. "Between baby, work, and therapy, where does that leave you and me?"

And now Chris had finally succeeded in putting tears in Tom's eyes. "I don't know."

"When the day is over and India is in bed, I want to spend what's left of the day with you," Chris said longingly.

"I know," Tom said tonelessly. "But when we're up from five, how is that going to work?"

"And tonight?"

"I was..." Tom sniffed, plucking at his silk robe, "Hoping to seduce you with this."

It was as if Chris was only now noticing what he was wearing. "Oh, Tom."

Upstairs, India started to cry. They looked at each other, both desperate not to lose this connection.

"I go take care of her," Tom said. "Go, have that shower."

"Tom..."

"So we can spend some time together later?" Tom said longingly, knowing full well that the clock was already nearing eleven, and the likelihood of them simply conking out once stationary increased any minute now.

"Fuck, this needs to change," Chris said. "This is not what I want."

India's crying bloomed into a full-blown wail. Tom looked at him, and then turned around to get back up the stairs.

  


* * *

  


Tom was sprawled out on the sofa when Chris came back – now equally in silk -, with India sleeping on top of his chest, her little fist curled around the robe's lapel. A milk stain marred the flawless black.

He opened his eyes when Chris tenderly picked up his daughter.

"I think she's teething," Tom said. "She had a runny nappy and she kept trying to chew on everything in her grasp. I gave her some Infant Nurofen in her bottle, for the pain. The label said it's good for teething. I hope that's okay."

"She's asleep now," Chris said. "She'll be unbearable tomorrow if she doesn't have enough sleep. It's fine." He leaned over Tom and kissed him. "I'm sorry."

Tom held his head in his hands and connected their foreheads, not letting him go for a long time. "I love you."

"I promise I'll be right back."

  


Tom had exchanged his soiled garment against a fresh one when Chris came back and fitted himself alongside his lover.

"Do you really still want to make love?" he asked.

Tom's eyes opened, and he just looked at him. It was answer enough.

"I don't deserve you." Chris' fingers trailed down Tom's silk-clad spine.

"Probably not," Tom murmured, seeking his lips. "But my hard cock looks spectacular in black silk and I don't want to let it go to waste."

Chris chuckled warmly. "It does?"

"Keep that up and judge for yourself," Tom said, wantonly pressing against Chris.

"Hmmm..." Chris took his time, teasing his fingertips over Tom's round ass as Tom kept pressing against him, his arms around Chris' shoulders. "I want to give something to you."

"Right now?" Tom murmured, seeking his lips.

"Right now, too." Chris smiled. "Tomorrow."

"What is it?"

"You get a lazy day," Chris murmured. "I'll wake you up in the morning to make love with you..."

"Hmmmm..."

"And we cuddle until India gets up..."

"Hmmmm..."

"And then you get breakfast in bed, and you get to stay in and read and laze about while I entertain India. You're not allowed to get up before she goes down for her nap."

"Oh?"

"And when she's asleep I come and make love to you again as many times as we can fit within an hour," Chris promised. "Any way you like."

"I get a fuck-and-sleep half day?" Tom asked.

"You can do that all day if you want to," Chris promised. "If you want us out of your hair in the afternoon I'll take her out to lunch and for a walk and you can just enjoy the silence."

"I want out to lunch and for a walk with you two," Tom mewled. "But I'll take you three times more when she naps in the afternoon. I want the whole bedroom to reek of splendid sex."

The desire expressed in Tom's words had an immediate effect. Chris shifted them so Tom lay on his back and he was on top, and then they were suddenly busy loosening the knots on both their robes because they were painfully in the way. Still clad in silk, their naked fronts met as Chris slid against Tom, and they both moaned.

"Fuck, that feels good," Tom exhaled. "You feel so fucking good."

"You are so gorgeous," Chris murmured. "I just want to worship at your altar all day."

"Ooooohh..." Tom arched into his lover, knowing full well what effect that had on Chris. He felt Chris' cock brushing against his own, and closed his eyes, getting lost in the sensation. "Can you touch me through the silk?" he mumbled. "Just run your hand over my cock, please."

"Heh heh, yeah, I can." Chris was always charmed when Tom expressed his desires freely. He slid off half way and flicked Tom's robe off his hip. "Look at that," he said, sounding in awe.

"Did I promise too much?" Tom asked and then hissed sharply when Chris ran his palm over his cock. "Oh god."

"That is some sight," Chris said appreciatively. He massaged Tom's cock through the fabric and then slid lower, handling his balls and pressing his fingertips against his perineum.

"Please can you take me in your mouth," Tom instructed. "I want to come in your mouth."

"You're very specific tonight," Chris murmured appreciatively.

Tom nodded rapidly. "Horny," he said. "Really, really horny for you."

Chris laughed. "If I worship you I might as well do it on my knees."

"You can do to me what you want after," Tom babbled incoherently. "Or I'll do what you want after or... ooooh!"

"I'll come between your legs," Chris murmured into his ear as he mounted him again. "Thrust my cock into that lovely, smooth silk, in the heat between your legs." He reached down to rub Tom's cock again. "Have my seed stain that lovely black."

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" Tom bucked against him. "Have me now, Chris. Have me now, please..."

Chris ducked his head. The foreplay was a little shorter tonight than he liked, but he didn't mind the silken feel of Tom's cock on his tongue at all. He pulled at the briefs and freed Tom's head, licking the pre-come out of his slit, and wrapping his lips around it, sucking him in. Tom cried out and bucked up, and he massaged his balls, pressing his cock upward into his mouth over and over again.

Tom was flailing with lust, hardly knowing where to pull or what to grab. His fingers finally dug into Chris' hair and he used his mouth with abandon, bucking into him as Chris sucked him for his life.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't take long for his semen to shoot up into Chris' mouth. He'd made Chris so wild that he could hardly wait for Tom to finish before he snapped his briefs over his still hard cock and turned him on his stomach.

"You said between my legs..." Tom panted, and then he got it. "Oh my god."

Chris' cock had already been halfway out his boxers, and he was very business-like about freeing it and leading it between Tom's legs, thrusting against that delicious little ass of his. Tom pressed his hands against the arm rest and lifted his hips for Chris to have a better access as he bucked and sweated on top of him. One foot on the ground for better leverage, Chris labored over Tom's still silk-clad back, and then shoved his robe upwards and ran his tongue up his spine.

"Chris!" Tom bucked against him, resulting in Chris holding him down between the shoulder blades and fucking him until he felt his orgasmcrawl up his balls. He freed his cock and spurted all over the plane of Tom's back, massaging his cock for the last drop, and then wiping it against Tom's still silk-clad ass.

He pulled Tom's robe down, protecting his seed from being rubbed off his lover's skin too soon, and then carefully turned Tom around and gathered him in his arms.

Curiously, Tom's hand immediately came down to touch and milk his cock and when he was satisfied that there was nothing left, he sucked what he'd gathered off his hand and then cuddled himself in against Chris' chest.

"Heh heh heh heh," Chris heard him chuckle.

"Hm?" Chris hadn't felt this content and happy in a while.

"We've still got it," Tom said, nuzzling against his chin.

"I like my come a lot better on that silk than India's milk," Chris murmured. "I had to do something about it."

He felt Tom's laughter against his chest.


	7. Making Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Tom deal with a teething India and make the best of a lazy Sunday.

Despite their best intentions, everything turned out differently after all. India came at four thirty, desolate with another runny nappy and teething pains, and did not go back to sleep until eight. When Tom got up at that time to look for his boyfriend, Chris had fallen asleep with the baby on the recliner, so Tom spent the next hour tiptoeing through the kitchen to get some coffee and muesli into himself, then tiptoeing back to the bedroom to change into his running gear.

Knowing that Chris would want to come along, he was torn for a moment, but the stark reality was a moody, teething baby and a Chris with no more than four hours of sleep so far – and that would not do. Heavy-hearted, Tom quickly scribbled a note for him and left it on the sofa table, hoping he would see it right away when he woke up.

The fresh, light air was a benediction. Tom pulled up the hood on his running shirt and set off, making sure he was too quick and agile on his feet for people to recognize or even stop him. He decided to make the trip up to Hampton Heath, enjoying the strain that was Parliament Hill, and stopped at a bakery and a pharmacy on his way back. He felt buoyant and happy by the time he returned home, ready to take on the day.

Father and baby were still out.

Tom resisted the urge to go kiss them both; the picture so adorable with Chris' hair and beard all mussed up, the short night clearly visible on his face, his tiny child shielded protectively in his muscled arm. Instead, he whipped out his phone and took a quick shot for memory, then, having left his shopping in the kitchen earlier, tiptoed back into the bedroom for a shower and a change.

It was nearing eleven when he came out with a load of laundry and this time, Chris' sleep was light enough to react to the movement. Tom quickly deposited his load and then came back to the living room, where Chris blinked sleepily at him.

"What time is it?"

"Eleven," Tom said. "There's no rush, though."

"Jesus." Chris blinked and shook his head, then immediately looked guilty. "I'm sorry, I'd really..."

Tom laughed. "Don't worry about it," he said. "You promised me a hassle-free morning, I've had it. I left you two to go have a quick run. I picked up goods at the bakery and bought about every teething aid they had at Boots."

Chris drew his brows together. "I promised you... we wanted to make love?" He slowly sat up, careful not to wake the still sleeping India.

Tom sat down beside him and kissed his cheek. "There's still plenty of time, honey."

"Oof." Chris rubbed his eyes and rested his head atop Tom's shoulder, slinging one arm around his back for support. He closed his eyes, snuggling himself in. "Hm, nice."

Tom leaned his head against Chris' and slung his leg over Chris' knee. He enjoyed giving him a moment to fully wake up, everything so quiet, and Chris still smelling of sleep. "I love you," he said affectionately.

"Uh-huh," Chris mumbled, his thumb rubbing over Tom's back.

"I'm beginning to think," Tom said soothingly, "there are a lot of ways to make love. Letting you sleep in after a short night, for example. Or taking care of your baby while you get ready, and fix breakfast for you to enjoy when you are."

"Mmmm... not going anywhere right now," Chris protested sleepily, his arm around Tom's back contracting. "I'm far too comfortable." He nuzzled against Tom's neck. "And you smell too good."

They cuddled for a good five minutes, until Chris finally yawned, stretched and smiled. "That was nice." He wanted to kiss him, but Tom stopped him.

"Go brush your teeth," he said, amused. "Early morning snack?"

"Ew, yeah, okay." He yawned again, scratching his belly. "You sure? We could throw in a quickie as long as India's still asleep."

"Wow, so much romance." Tom just laughed. "I don't know how I can resist."

"Hey, I'm trying." Chris mock-pouted. "Who knows when the tyke is falling asleep next."

"I'd rather not have her wake up screaming while I'm in the middle of making love to you," Tom said reasonably. "We've had a pretty good track record so far; I don't want to break it."

"Yeah, okay." Chris closed his eyes and pursed his lips. "Kiss please?"

Chuckling, Tom climbed into his lap and pecked his mouth. "Better?"

Chris shook his head. "Uh-uh. Again."

Tom held his face in his hand and peppered it with kisses, planting a big one on his still closed lips. "Now?" he asked.

Chris smiled. "You know that if I wasn't afraid of waking India..."

"Let's put her in the day bed, see how long we have," Tom gave in after all.

They did, and managed to tip-toe away from the crib, then Chris chased Tom into the bedroom, where he tackled him onto the bed and tickled him mercilessly. Tom, equipped with long arms and fast reflexes, gave as good as he got, but had no chance against Chris' greater bulk pinning him down and tickling his neck with his beard, then swiftly pulling his shirt out of his pants and doing the same thing to his belly, ending in huge raspberry that had Tom squirming and laughing out loud.

"Augh! Augh!" he tried to fend him off, having the time of his life.

Chris nipped at his belly button, peering up at him with a smile. "You need more flab," he said decisively.

"Not really."

"Yeah, yeah, it works better with..." he nuzzled his side, blowing at his skin again, making Tom squeal and trying to shift away. "… with a bit more flab."

Tom wrapped his legs around his lover's torso and flipped him over. "My turn."

Chris, however, had even less flab than Tom, and Tom only had a little scruff to work with, so the blowing quickly turned into kissing, licking and nibbling. He didn't protest when Chris pulled his shirt off and they were naked within moments, shifting and sliding their bodies against each other.

"You didn't want to," Chris murmured, very happy with the turn of events, his palms caressing Tom's soft, freshly showered skin. He arched into Tom's bite against his neck, his hands roaming over his back, his ass, the top of his thighs. "Oooooh."

"Shut up," Tom murmured with a smile. "Or fight me off."

Chris just snorted, desperate to feel him. "Breath mint?" he asked.

"I'll so regret this." Tom leaned over him and kissed him, grimacing at first, then shrugging. "It'll wear off."

Chris chuckled, not about to protest. He was getting so deliciously hard, and he was so desperate to be with Tom.

"How would you like me?" Tom asked. "Now that you have me?"

"Just close," Chris said. "Just be here."

"I can do that." Chris closed his eyes at Tom kissing along his neck, his collar bones, soulfully massaging his pecs, nipping playfully at his nipples. He pushed his pelvis up, getting the prize of Tom pushing back at him, shifting to bring their cocks into close contact. "Hmmm..."

"Let's get under the covers," Tom murmured.

It took some readjusting, but Tom pulled the duvet over their heads, creating a warm, dark, intimate space. Chris just closed his eyes, his hands so gentle on Tom's skin as his lover kept up his kisses and caresses, making sure his cock rubbed over Chris' with each stroke of his pelvis. "I adore you," Chris murmured. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

He felt Tom's lips curve into a smile against his own. "I love you," he murmured. "I'm so glad you're mine."

"You better believe it." He grabbed Tom's ass with both hands, pulling him closer while pushing up at the same time.

They both moaned.

"Mine," Tom exhaled as he ground into him. "Mine."

"Make me come," Chris murmured. "Paint me with yours."

"Chris..." Tom was clearly getting into it now, the strokes of his pelvis more decisive, the nips against his skin turning into little bites. He moaned languidly, his hands curling around Chris' shoulders for better leverage.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Chris whined. "I don't want to come this fast, but dammit."

Atop him, Tom chuckled a warm breath against his skin. "Lightweight," he teased breathlessly, already half there, himself. Knowing that they were on borrowed time, feeling his desire wash over him, he eased the pressure somewhat, taking more weight on his knees and lifted his pelvis, just stroking their cocks lightly together. It was a very sweet torture; Chris was biting his lips, twisting and whining under him, so close yet unable to get there like this. Tom slowed down to a crawling pace, but rubbing the sensitive head of his cock along Chris' skin didn't help at all. "Ready or not," he panted, resuming his previous pace.

"Here I come," Chris murmured against his ear as he met him stroke for stroke.

They were so sweaty and excited, moving against each other at a frenzied pace until Tom's squeezed his eyes together and grimaced. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck."

"Yeah, come," Chris encouraged him, his large hands squeezing his ass as if to milk out his come that way. "Come for me, Tom. Come."

He was quickly rewarded with just that, Tom lifting up slightly, his come spurting all the way to his pecs. Chris grasped their cocks in one hand and milked Tom's orgasm out of him, coming halfway with him, his teeth in his bottom lip as he threw back his head and cried out his climax.

It took them a moment to come down from their high, both panting and delirious, Chris unwilling to let go of their cocks until they were both limp.

"I have no words," Tom murmured breathless against his neck. "For how much I love you."

Chris lifted up his chin and kissed him, feeling quite the same way.

  


* * *

  


Resting together after was cut short when India started to call for them.

They were both covered in come. Tom groaned and flipped to his back, his long arm reaching over to his nightstand, coming back with the packet of wet wipes parked there.

"I'm sorry," Chris murmured, picking out a few and starting to clean him up while kissing along Tom's torso with his efforts. Tom knew that was already luxury, but he couldn't make himself hurry him up, his fingers lazily threading through Chris' locks.

"If you clean me up first does that mean it's my turn with India?" he mumbled, wanting to stay right where he was, instead.

"Would you mind?" Chris said, alarmed. "It wasn't meant that way, but if you were, I could make a quick loo run and brush my teeth."

"No, no, it's fine." Tom raised his lover up to his face and kissed him. Kissed him again. Kissed him soulfully, deeply.

India's crying changed from calls to desperation. Both men groaned, but got a few last kisses in.

"To be continued," Chris promised as he rolled away to clean himself. "You can count on it."

  


* * *

  


Chris found India in her bounce seat on the kitchen table when he came back, while Tom was busy at the oven.

"I have a hankering for a full English," he said decisively. "Could you handle tea and coffee?"

"What are you chewing on?" Chris asked India, shaking her little foot.

"She was really hungry so I gave her a teething biscuit," Tom said. "I want her to have breakfast with us."

"Okay." Chris smiled at seeing his firstborn gnawing on the treat. "What's that around her neck?"

"Dribble bib," Tom explained shortly. "I bought five and put the others into the load of laundry I just started. There are number of teething rings in the fridge; they said it feels good when they're cold."

"And these?" Chris lifted two pieces of broad, heart-shaped jewelery on neck bands. They weren't really what Tom and he would usually wear.

"Teething aids," Tom said, setting the skillet to fry. "She's going to try gnawing on everything in reach. If all else fails..."

Chris crossed over to where Tom was standing and slung his arms around him. "You're amazing."

"I'm angry," Tom said, putting the bacon into the pan.

"Oh." Chris let him go and leaned against the counter. "What's going on?"

"Could you get going on the tea and coffee?" Tom said. "I feel like I could really use a good cup of tea right about now."

"Okaaay..." Chris blinked, not really sure what to make of the situation. "Toast?"

"Go for it." While the bacon was frying and releasing its mouth-watering smell, Tom quickly stirred the beans just starting to bubble and then got busy slicing four fist-sized tomatoes.

Chris filled the kettle and water tank and got the hot beverages started, then crossed over to India, rubbing noses with her. "Are you good?" he asked her.

She kicked and giggled.

"That good?" Chris asked, nuzzling her belly, making her kick and giggle even more. He wiped the accumulated drool and pasty biscuit off her chin and then started to set the table, returning to the counter to fill two cups with coffee for him and Tom, and pouring the boiling water over three bags of tea in the pot. He surveyed Tom's preparations and then got India's plate out, starting her baby mash with the remaining hot water.

Tom was just now frying the tomatoes, and then fished out the bacon and sausages, just to crack some eggs into the remaining grease. With the breakfast nearly done, it was high time for Chris to get some bread toasted. While he waited for it to pop, he leaned against the counter with crossed arms. "Are you going to tell me what has you so upset?" he asked reasonably. "Should I have thought about buying all these things for India, or...?"

"No," Tom said. "I don't mind. I was up early and thought of it. It's fine."

"Okay, so...?"

Tom sighed and shook his head. "It bothers me that Elsa's not here," he said. "I know it makes no sense, because it means the we wouldn't have India, but it bothers me to no end that she's holing up in Romania while her daughter is going through such an important step of her life without her mum."

"She's going to get new teeth for a while...?" Chris suggested.

Tom snorted. "She's going to have her first tooth only once," he said. "I felt her gums earlier, there's a little bump." He suddenly stopped and grinned. "It's totally adorable. Can you imagine her with just two teeth? Her smiles are going to be even more devastating than they already are. We'll be putty in her hands."

The clearly apparent love, pride and adoration in Tom's voice made Chris smile. "Elsa has no idea that India is teething," he said reasonably. "I did write an e-mail to her last night telling her that India needs her. We'll see what comes of it."

"After you talked online?" Tom asked, giving him a short look over his shoulder.

"Look, she chatted me up because she noticed I was on," Chris said defensively. "I don't think she planned on doing it. It really didn't sound that way." He sighed. "We wrote a few sentences back and forth and then she just disconnected."

"What did you say to her?" Tom asked, raising a brow at him.

Chris fidgeted and was happy that the just popping toast was giving him an excuse to do something else.

"I never know how much to tell you," he said after filling the toaster a second time. "It's so weird, I want to be honest, but I also want to protect Elsa's privacy."

"The general gist, maybe?" Tom asked. He turned off the cooking plates and wiped his hands on a towel as he turned around to listen.

"Like I said, I don't think Romania is really what Elsa thought it would be. Being away completely, I mean. It's not... really solving the issues."

Tom just looked thoughtfully at him for a while, then roused. "Breakfast is ready on my side," he said. "Should I fill the plates here...?"

"Yeah, things keep hot better for a second helping." Chris smiled and crossed over to kiss his cheek. "Thanks for cooking, it looks great."

  


* * *

  


Tom assembled the plates while Chris put the hot beverages on the table and then put India in her high chair. Tom had added a bit of apple sauce to India's breakfast, and since he had already had a few bits to eat earlier, he took first turn of feeding the little girl. She seemed in much better spirits now, telling them outrageous tales while they took turns with her little spoon, and having a good appetite. When she was finished, Tom directed Chris towards the carrot stick he had set to chill in the fridge earlier to soothe India's gums, and they finished breakfast with seconds and in Chris' case, thirds.

With India bouncy, sitting down with tea to talk was difficult, so Chris cleared the table while Tom took her to the living room to play on her play rug. He smiled at Chris when he came in a bit later with both their mugs and set them on the table. "Your little sprite is in good spirits," he said. "Good thing for you to sleep in with her this morning."

"Do you still want to take that walk?" Chris asked, crossing over to them.

"Might as well, huh? Or she'll never take that nap."

"You're so good with her," Chris said, settling down behind him and kissing his cheek. "Thank you."

He could see that Tom was pleased.

"I keep wanting to ask you if you want one of our own," Chris just blurted out before he could censor himself.

Tom turned his head and gave him a smile. "Let's figure out this one first, huh?"

"Yeah, but..." He nuzzled against the back of Tom's neck, inhaling his scent. "Would you?"

"What's bringing that on?" Tom asked, his voice gentle.

"I guess just watching you with India, I don't know." Chris was glad that Tom didn't rule it out right away. "You know she adores you, right?"

"Can you imagine the logistics, though?" Tom asked.

"Less complicated than with India," Chris murmured. "No third person to worry about?"

"And how would India feel, hm? Her being shuttled back and forth and our baby staying with us all the time."

Chris smiled against the warmth of Tom's back. "So you are thinking about it."

Tom went very still for a moment, and then said, quietly: "Yeah, sometimes."

"Hmmm, I love you." He turned Tom's head around to himself and kissed him. Properly. "You make an awesome parent, you know," he murmured against Tom's lips. "You should have heaps and heaps of children. It's only right."

"If I was a woman I'd think you're trying to talk me into making one _right now_ ," Tom said, amused. "You do remember the technical difficulties, right? No slot A?"

"You get to sire the next," Chris said. "I want a little boy with curly blond hair."

  


* * *

  


It was hard to remember what a difficult situation they were in when they were so very happy, Tom though a bit later when they were out on a stroll with the baby. Eschewing the pushchair, Chris was carrying her on his arm, and she rode him like a prize horse, towering over the world from her high, protected vantage point.

Whatever the future would bring for India, she'd always have this; a father who was absolutely on her side, who was big and strong and whom she could always go to for protection and support. Just witnessing it felt incredibly good; as if watching Chris being a wonderful dad to India healed some of the wounds Tom's own father had left in his soul, back when he had so abruptly left the family and became so very unapproachable to his children. Maybe when a family broke up, it didn't always have to mean that the children were being left to deal with it alone. Maybe if father and mother were working hard to be kind and understanding, and put their needs first, it would be easier on the children. And maybe if they had step-parents who were actually there, who cared and listened, it would be easier again.

India strained to be on his arm next, and Tom lifted her up to sit on his shoulders. He had to hold on to her hands to make sure she would not fall off, but she loved it anyway, especially when Tom was starting to trot.

They handed her back and forth during the course of the walk, and only sat her down when they reached the playground and let her ride on a springy toddler toy. They took turns going down the slide with her and then settled her on the swing, one pushing and one entertaining in front. This was a fairly wealthy neighborhood with residents who were all appreciative of what little privacy they could gather in their spare times. They were met with smiles and there were the usual playground interactions, but no one bothered them and moreover, definitely no one was trying to take their picture.

India was starting to get tired and cranky by the time they turned home. A soothing bottle and a nappy change later, she was peacefully slumbering in her upstairs cot to the sound of her melody box toy.

"Can it always be Sunday?" Tom asked, yawning, as they gathered in the living room with a quick snack.

"We have tomorrow off," Chris pointed out. "No reason why we couldn't repeat the whole thing."

"Yeah, but we're going to be in late and India's going to be up early," Tom said. "Should we ask Miss Rose to leave her up later today?"

"Sounds like a good idea, yeah."

They finished their sandwiches in companionable silence, smiling at each other every now and then.

"I know we should talk about Elsa and all that," Tom finally said, his hunger satisfied. "But I'm just so content I have no mind for complicated things right now."

"You still have to present a couple of awards tonight, too," Chris pointed out.

Tom groaned. "I just about forgot that."

"Okay, time for your nap, then," Chris urged. "It's three thirty; what time do you need to be up to get ready?"

"Five-ish," Tom said. "Miss Rose is coming in at six, isn't she?" He yawned again.

"Off to bed," Chris said, as he stood up to clean the table. "I'll be right behind you."

  


He was just that a few moments later when he joined Tom in bed. Both nude by unspoken consent, he happily spooned his lover and nuzzled behind his ear.

"Have you set the alarm?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," Tom said sleepily, drawing Chris' arm tightly around him. "Sorry for being too tired to make love."

"Like you said," Chris murmured, kissing his shoulder. "Sometimes making love is letting someone sleep in. Or nap, in this case."

"You're awesome," Tom said with sleepy conviction.

Chris smiled, holding him very close.


	8. Yes/No

When Tom woke from his nap and opened his eyes, he realized that Chris was already awake. Lying opposite him, his boyfriend was watching him, his eyes lighting up, the laugh lines around them deepening.

"Hey," Chris said softly.

"Meh." Not yet ready or willing to face the world, Tom scooted closer and buried his face against Chris' shoulder. He felt his arm wrap around him and softly run his fingertips down his back. He didn't want to know what time it was, just rest in this cocoon of love and warmth. He missed waking up with Chris, the intimacy of already being soft, malleable and pliant with each other; having this before the rest of the world had a go at you.

Chris caressed him gently, placing a kiss on his head and brushing his thumb against the skin of his neck. Tom stretched into the touch to let him know he loved it, and felt Chris' soft chuckle more than he heard it. In moments like this, it felt as if Tom's heart expanded until it was able to encompass the world.

"I love you," wasn't enough, but still, he said it. Quietly, into the warmth of Chris' skin. "You mean everything to me." When you just woke up, the mask not yet in place, it was easy to say things like that. It was easy to say things like that with Chris.

Chris kissed the top of his head again and pulled him closer. They held each other gently, and Tom felt their heartbeats align until they beat as one. It was timeless, and so needed.

He finally looked up, and found Chris smiling at him from under tears. Tom didn't say anything, just switched positions with him; cradling Chris against his own shoulder and rocking him gently. "It's okay," he said quietly. "I understand."

Chris' arm contracted around him and Tom felt his hot tears sliding over his skin.

They'd been crying a lot when they'd first opened up to each other; the relief about being seen, about being able to acknowledge the feelings that had been buried for so long was so great. And there was sorrow, mourning about having been so lonely for so long and not taking the chance to have your heart's desire much sooner. About the time wasted. About suddenly facing emotions neither of them had experienced before.

"You turn me completely inside out," Chris finally said. "And I can't get the genie back into the bottle."

Tom rubbed his shoulder and kissed his head to let him know he was listening.

"I want to be this raw with you," Chris said. "I want to. But I can't turn it off any more."

"Oh, sweetheart."

"I don't know how to be at the gala tonight and not... not still be completely in love with you."

"That's a good thing, honey."

"Do you want to come out?" Chris asked, looking up at him.

"No." Tom stroked his face and kissed his forehead. "Tonight is not about that."

Chris cuddled back into the nook of his shoulder.

"Do you want to stay home?" Tom asked, trying to sound as if it was completely okay. He'd been so looking forward to spending the evening with Chris. Just sharing his life with him. Going one step further than the door of this flat. Anchor his relationship with Chris in the here and now instead of making plans that mostly revolved around an as-of-yet still very uncertain future. Make it feel real, not like something he thought up and wished for.

Chris took his time for his answer, his fingertip drawing lazy circles on Tom's chest. "I try to picture both," he said. "I'm thinking about you leaving without me and it makes me incredibly sad. I don't want to stay home with the baby. Another evening without you."

"Okay." Tom knew his smile was more than watery. "And the other scenario?"

"I don't know where to put my hand and feet," Chris said. "I know it must sound so stupid by now. You are not what's keeping me from going." He turned so he could look at Tom, finally. "You are not."

"Thank you for saying that," Tom said, his lower lip quivering. "I know I shouldn't say this but I really want you to come."

"I know." Chris gave him a lovesick smile. "Hey."

"But you won't, will you?"

"I don't know how..." Chris shook his head. "I don't know how to make it work."

"Okay." Tom blew out a long breath but he knew he was already crying. "It's okay."

"Tom..."

"I'm not going to make you do something you're not ready for," Tom said. "You wouldn't do it to me, either."

"Tom..."

"Chris?" He sniffed.

"I don't want you to be upset with me. I don't want you to not talk to me for the next day or week. Please...?"

"Can I at least be sad?" Tom asked. "Because I really, really am."

Chris scooted up so he could rest his head against Tom's, and they both cried.

"I'm sorry," Tom said under tears.

"No, I am." But he could also see the relief in Chris' eyes.

"I wish I could cancel, too, and just stay here with you," Tom said. "I'm so sick of everything that keeps pushing us apart."

Chris' lips were salty when he kissed him.

  


* * *

  


Tom knew that the decision would be final once they told Miss Rose she didn't have to come in, so as soon as India started to indicate that she was ready to be picked up, he got up with Chris to call her babysitter. He went out to the living room with his lover, watching him ascend the stairs to the gallery, and made sure that Chris heard him address the young woman when she picked up her phone.

"Hello? I'm very sorry to say – well, you're probably not sorry," he joked, "But India is teething and Chris has decided he'd like to stay home with her tonight. So you have the evening off. I'm sorry if you've had to cancel plans for tonight...?"

"No, no, like I said, I was looking forward to studying," Rose said. "Is she all right?"

Glad to be in touch with a childcare professional, Tom recounted all the things they'd been doing to make India's life easier.

"She's so lucky to have you guys," Miss Rose said. "It's no problem to give her some pain medication so she sleeps through the night. No one is helped when she's waking up crying every few moments."

Tom looked up to see Chris make signs at him.

"Oh, Chris lets me know that of course you're still going to be paid for tonight," Tom said. "It's not your fault we're canceling last minute."

"That's all right," Miss Rose said, but Tom could hear the relief in her voice. "Am I still coming in Tuesday morning?"

"Yes, we both have an early call and get picked up at five."

"The glamorous life of an actor," she deadpanned.

"Exactly that," Tom said. "You're free to nap on the recliner until she wakes up, of course."

"I'll be fine, thank you." He heard her smile through the phone. "So see you Tuesday morning?"

"Yes," he said. "Have a nice Sunday evening, Rose."

"You, too. I'll be waiting for the press on the BIFAs."

"Uh-huh." It did make him smile. "Good night."

He hung up and sat there for a moment, letting the fact settle that it was done, Chris would not be able to come now. Then he put the phone aside and went to the bathroom to get ready.

  


* * *

  


"Is there some way I can make up for tonight?" was Chris' first question when Tom joined him and India later in the kitchen for a light supper, his hair and make-up done.

It was a difficult question at best, and an impossible one at worst.

"I take it I'm going to go and feel rotten all night, and you're going to stay and feel rotten all night," Tom said lightly. "Not sure what you want to make up for."

"Tom." Chris finished putting the food on the table and sat down opposite him.

"No, don't..." Tom blew out a breath and did his best not to let the tears come up again. "I'll ruin the make-up."

"How are we getting through the evening, then?" Chris asked. "I know you're disappointed. I'm disappointed in myself. I don't want you to go and think I don't love you..."

"I don't." Tom swallowed heavily. "But I need to be presenting and representing tonight and if you keep talking I'll be a teary mess all evening."

"Do you want a free morning tomorrow, then?" Chris asked. "After being with so many people all night?"

"I just want you," Tom said, and the tears shot into his eyes after all. He let them drop into his bowl of soup, resigning to having to reapply his make-up after all. He just couldn't help it.

"Do you want me to text you?" Chris asked. "Or leave you alone?"

"Text me," Tom choked.

"Stay up for when you come home?" Chris asked.

Tom just nodded.

"I'll try to keep India awake for as long as I can so we'll have a bit of time together tomorrow morning before she needs us."

"Okay."

"And then let's figure out a place where we can go together tomorrow," Chris said.

"Somewhere less visible?" Tom couldn't help saying.

Chris shifted. "Do you want to be in the papers with me?" he asked. "Wait for Christmas, when we're papped at the airport. It'll happen sooner or later. It's just a matter of time."

Tom knew Chris was right. "Everyone in the jury was looking forward to seeing us together tonight," he choked out. "It would've been nice for once." He didn't mean to guilt trip Chris, but it had to be said. "To be in the company of people who don't care."

"Did you tell them we're together?" Chris asked.

Tom shook his head. "But I was still proud you'd be there with me." He wiped his tears angrily. "And I've had a few who said that it would be fun because it seemed we always got along so well and they were looking forward to seeing it live."

"So all eyes would've been on us, and it would either have been horribly awkward because I'd be overly careful not to betray our relationship, so no banter, no touching, no fun. Or I would've at some point held you hand, kissed your cheek or called you 'honey' because it's just so engrained that I can't be sure I won't just do it when I'm not careful," Chris said clearly, getting more fervent at the end. "I would've been so stupidly proud – I _am_ so stupidly proud of you, Tom! - that I'd been looking around, going: 'That's my Tom!'. I want us to come out when we're ready, on our terms, I don't want it to be a secret that someone will put in the paper and make dirty as they please. I want to have my things in order so no one can shame us on how we got together. I want to have you by my side and all I want them to see is two people who overcame a great deal to be together, but didn't waltz over everyone who was hurt by their decision."

"Does that include my family?" Tom asked contrarily, recognizing full well that Chris had just made a whole row of valid points.

"At least the ones who are decent and stand by you, yes," Chris said. "Everyone else can go to hell."

"I want to at least give them a fair warning," Tom murmured. "Regardless of how they act towards us at the moment, I still love them."

He just heard Chris' spoon clatter into his bowl, and then his boyfriend was already on his side of the table, hugging him.

"I'll get make-up on your shirt," Tom protested feebly.

"Like I care." Chris held him tightly.

"I hate that you're right."

"I know." Chris rubbed his back.

"I want you to come with me."

"I know." Chris kissed his temple.

"I'm so sick and tired of being alone."

" _I love you,_ " Chris said with emphasis. "I will not let you go through this alone. You are not alone."

"Then come with me, dammit!"

"I can't." Chris held him tight. "Just because I can't go with you today doesn't mean I never will. We need to work a little longer on this. I need to work a little longer on this. All I'm asking is that you wait a little longer, Tom, so I'm ready for what's going to come at us."

"Ugh."

India, who had watched the whole thing from her high chair with big eyes and a stunned expression now started to cry.

"And I've scared the baby again. Yay me."

"Stop it, Tom. Stop." Chris made him look up, at him. "We love you. Both of us. Just because I'm not ready yet for what you're asking me to do doesn't mean that changes. You're home with me. You're home with us. And we'll both be here when you come back tonight."

"I don't know how to do this," Tom said, his voice as hollow as he felt.

"I'll be here when you come back."

"You just don't want to go with me."

"Tom." Chris looked as heartbroken as he felt. "If I go with you tonight, we're out tomorrow."

He'd tried everything he could think of. Maybe it wasn't even about getting Chris to come with him any more. He felt like this was a bone he needed to gnaw, shake, and growl at. How could letting him go on his own, and still loving him at the same time, both be true?

"I need to get ready," he said tonelessly, shifting out of Chris' embrace. "And you need to take care of India."

"Hey." Chris held him fast. "I'm not going to let you leave like that."

"You will have to. Chris, I need to get ready. Luke is picking me up in 45 minutes, I'm less ready than I was 20 minutes ago. My eyes are puffy and my hands are shaking; if I keep doing this, I might as well not go at all. And I don't have that option."

He tried to put emotional distance between them, but Chris pulled him into a kiss and held him for just a moment longer to press their foreheads together.

"You're not alone," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "And you don't get to think you are." He added another kiss. "And now please hold India and let her know you're okay before you're dressed up and can't."

Tom drew a shuddering breath, his hands covering Chris'. He was still here, solid, a presence that Tom knew and was familiar with. If he did what Chris suggested, if he gave in to what he offered despite his refusal to come along, would that mean he'd condone his decision (Which was sound if he thought about it long enough which he didn't want to)? The way he'd made it (Open and honest about his fears at all times)?

A great war was being fought in Tom's breast. He gave a frustrated wail, but Chris would not budge.

"She loves you," Chris said. "You don't get to walk away from her just because something didn't go your way."

Tom drew a sobbing laugh, and then finally scooted out of Chris' embrace. He got up and walked around Chris to pick up the scared baby. "Hey honey," he said. "Come here, India. Everything is okay."

Nothing really was.

  


* * *

  


He thought he'd have another few months, or at least four or five weeks before he'd have to face this. To be in a committed relationship with Chris and still feel completely, utterly alone. And Chris hadn't even left.

Tom took a quick, cool shower, holding his face into the cold water until he felt it wasn't quite burning up any more from all those tears. He knew he needed to focus; every thought he spared on the heart-rendering situation he was in was tearing him up again.

He rubbed himself dry with a towel and quickly applied a cooling gel around his eyes. All the while, a battle of epic proportions was being fought inside of him; two opposing forces fighting for supremacy. He couldn't afford to listen, and he couldn't afford not to; if he wasn't aware of what was going on, his mood shifted without him knowing why.

He took deep breaths and tried to concentrate on what he was doing: Applying hair product. Styling his hair. Taking off the cooling gel. Applying foundation. Making sure he covered the worst of the red rims around his eyes. Thankfully, he'd shaved earlier. He wasn't sure his hands were steady enough now.

The bedroom was thankfully empty; his suit and shirt out on a hanger. He'd done this a million times, and put all his focus on every little detail. Making sure his boxer briefs weren't creasing. Smoothing his tight undershirt. He took the shirt off the hanger and pulled it on, shrugging it over his shoulders, concentrating on every each button. His black trousers next; which fit perfectly. He had a sudden rush of feeling how incredibly lucky he was to be with Chris, who would – if he let him – peel him out of every piece of clothing with his teeth, and on his knees to boot, if he asked him to. And the stab to his gut when he remembered that the same man was making a decision right now that hurt him, Tom, so very, very much.

It was so confusing, because Chris' rationale was sound. Everything he said made sense, and it wasn't even the first time he'd said it. He'd reiterated, time and again, how uncomfortable he felt with the whole idea at this time, and Tom had still made arrangements all around him as if he'd already said yes. And at the same time, it was as if his "no" was ripping out Tom's heart, as if all the heartache of the world was descending on him at once, as if there was no tomorrow, no hope, and no way out of this pit.

He had to pull himself off that train of thought or the tears were back – and teary foundation on black combed wool was not a good look.

He quickly fixed his tie and then shrugged into the jacket. He had 10 minutes to go but he would leave now. He ran a soft cloth over his spotless shoes and slipped into them, making sure the laces were tight but didn't chafe. He looked in the mirror, adjusted an unruly curl and saw a sober yet composed image of himself looking back.

Chris was in the living room with India; the baby on the play rug, playing with a colorful row of toys hanging over her head on a contraption, and Chris on his laptop. He put it away to look at him when he came in.

"I'm leaving now," Tom said.

Chris quickly checked the time, and opened his mouth to say something, but Tom held up his hand. He wondered what to say, but no words would come to mind, so he just walked past him toward the hallway. But it didn't help; he could already hear Chris get up and come after him. His lover stood in the doorway until Tom was dressed and had buttoned his coat.

Chris had waited for that moment; he closed up with him and turned him around. "I can't let you go that way," he said gently. "Tom."

Tom exhaled noisily, but he didn't try to step out of the contact.

Chris took it as encouragement. "I can't let you go without letting you know how loved you are," Chris said. "And that it's my own inadequacy when it comes to lying that is having us in this mess."

"Okay," Tom said softly.

"I am sorry," Chris said, pronouncing each word clearly. "I will work hard to make it possible that we can go together in the future."

"Okay."

"And not only will I be here when you come back, I'll also be available to call and text and I will pester you all night."

"Please don't." Tom's laugh was a little desperate. "I can't have my phone ringing while presenting an award."

"Then turn it off while you're on stage and when you turn it on again it'll be full of dad jokes to make you laugh," Chris said gently. "I love you. You're _my_ Tom. And I am so, so proud of you."

Tom closed his eyes, and then he just leaned forward and they kissed. He straightened, opening his eyes. "Chris, I need to go. If we keep doing this, I'll be a teary mess again in no time flat."

He took his gloves out of his pockets and pulled them on. Chris got his shawl from the hanger and Tom allowed him to tie it around his neck.

"I'll see you later," Tom said. "Take care."

And he left.


	9. Concussion

"Chris is not coming," Tom said as he slid into the car's back seat to sit beside Luke. "Brr, it's cold."

He shivered as he pulled the seat belt around himself and fastened it.

"Is he all right?" Luke asked, concerned.

"Yeah." Tom shook himself, trying to get warm. Standing outside in the cold for ten minutes had probably not been the wisest idea, even though he had used the time to shake off what had unsettled him and tried to focus on what the evening would bring, instead, glad he had all that acting training to put to good use in this situation.

"Should I... ask why, or...?"

"Not right now," Tom said fairly brusquely. If he opened up now, he might as well turn around and go home. Besides, he still didn't quite know how he felt about the whole thing, himself. "Do you need to make calls because Chris won't be there? Otherwise let's go through the schedule one more time."

It was a good thing Chris would not have been there in any official or promotional capacity or this would be a much bigger mess. As it was, one call took care of it, and both men started to concentrate on what the evening would bring for them.

  


* * *

  


Chris watched the door fall close behind Tom. He found himself touch the door, lean his forehead against it, knowing that Tom was walking down the stairs. He heard the front door close. He knew Tom would be standing outside until Luke arrived, and he wished himself through it, to Tom's side.

Oh, the irony. To be by his side was what Tom had asked him to do, yet each time he imagined the actual thing, it fell apart. He was supposed to kind of be there, but not as Tom's partner, and that was not good enough. Yet anything else wasn't possible at the moment, because of his, Chris, baggage. If they came out, no, _when_... Chris wanted nothing to distract from how extraordinary it was that they had found each other, and he was feeling too raw, too vulnerable. Just thinking back at the rants he'd been on since Friday, he knew he'd lash out against anybody making stupid remarks. Hell, he was lashing out at people who supported them at the moment. He was raw and overprotective of their relationship and that was not a good idea when you had to go public. And he simply wasn't ready yet.

He pushed away from the door, knowing he couldn't leave India alone for too long. His thoughts, however, remained firmly with Tom.

  


* * *

  


Theater training was a fine thing when you had to perform even though you felt like shit. By the time Tom had gone through posing for photos and the press line, he'd found into his smile-and-be-cheerful routine. He spent quite some time in the fan curve, causing Luke to have to pull him away, again, but it just made him feel good to be able to make someones day with a simple autograph or a smile on a selfie.

When he hurried inside, to show his face in the reception area, have a glass of the sponsor's bubbly and greet guests, he was able to field questions for Chris with "Sadly, he couldn't make it." The women uniformly asked if something was the matter with India, and when he told them she was teething, the resulting: "And he's staying home with her? How cute is that?" set his teeth on edge. He'd been the one figuring it out, medicating her and getting her the appropriate aids, but no, Chris was great for staying home with her. He was this close to adding a biting: "Actually, he just couldn't be bothered," but managed to hold back. There was his subtle hint that no, he wasn't quite fine with Chris not showing up.

Truth be told, he was too busy to think about it much. There were actors he went to school with that he caught up with, and one of his cast mates on _Thor_ , Idris, was also presenting an award, and sat at his table when the show began. Chris' free seat had quickly been filled with another jury member, and for a split second, Tom was tempted to ask himself how wise it would've been to have all three of them at one table. Idris had stopped filming with the rest of the Asgardians at the same time Tom had gone on his break, and because Tom and Chris had hardly had scenes together in the three weeks before that, he might not have noticed anything. But he would no doubt remark on the fact that they were this joined at the hip by now that they even had to show up together here.

Tom's award was called in thirty minutes into the show, and he presented at 40 min in, trying to keep a very nervous honoree entertained and distracted. After, there was the requisite photo taking, the requisite interview line, and once all of that was over, he didn't bother going back into the hall before the intermission.

Instead, he asked a friendly usher for a cigarette and found himself outside the stage door, puffing clumsily at the fag. He didn't smoke, but it seemed the appropriately self-destructive thing to do. Of course it sent him coughing, and his eyes were watering, but he kept at it until all that was left was a stub. And then it was just him, his hands deeply in his pockets, shivering a little, but looking up at a clear, starry sky.

He missed Chris. He missed him so much that he imagined him by his side, leaning against the rail, his shoulder pressed to his, pointing at a star, and then using the distraction as an excuse to look at him, as he so often did

Tom swallowed thickly and suddenly remembered his phone. He sniffed and wiped his eyes, then got the phone out and turned it on. Sure enough, a whole row of notifications rolled in, all with Chris' name tagged to them. Tom didn't read them – most of them came with pictures – but just dialed Chris' number.

"Heeeeyyy," came the instant reply. Chris sounded gentle and very relieved. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Tom said. "More or less."

"What are you up to?"

"Taking five after presenting."

"Intermission soon?"

"Yeah." He exhaled. "I miss you." But the tears threatened to come up again right away, so that was not a good thing to say. "You stand me up and I miss you, how stupid is that."

"It's not stupid," Chris said. "Listen to me, I have to say this, 'cause I want you to come home to us and still love me."

So Chris was a little insecure about the impact of what he'd done. Good.

"It hurts," Tom said quietly. "I just wanted to share my life with you."

"Tom, I promise you'll have to remove me from your side with a scalpel once we're official," Chris said.

"I think you're taking this 'joined at the hip' thing a little too literally," Tom sighed, but he had to laugh.

"Not at all," Chris said.

The line went quiet after that, both men just listening to the other breathing.

There were so many things going through Tom's mind. He wasn't ready to come out yet, either. He'd thought just pretending to be bros who went out together wouldn't be a problem, but it was. It was, in capital letters. Yet tackling the issue would mean taking on so many things that he would so much rather avoid. Talking to his parents, both of them, because it was important that they were informed of what he was about to do. That alone was enough to send anyone into a spin after the reaction a mere card and picture had provoked this week. Putting their very private relationship into the real world. He had thought he could do it by asking Chris to ignore they had one in the first place, for just one evening, but that had clearly not worked at all.

He shook himself; that row of thoughts led into very dangerous territory.

"What are you thinking?" Chris asked.

"Lots of stuff," Tom said. "Not ready to share yet."

"That scares me."

"Good." Tom laughed gently. "You know you deserve a bit of agony for leaving me hanging, right?"

There was a moment, and then Chris said: "I'm not leaving you hanging, Tom. I'm still here."

"Give me one evening to be upset," Tom said. "At least that."

"Upset about what?" It was a genuine question, Chris wasn't goading him.

"Chris, I'm just disappointed," Tom said defensively. "I think we keep reiterating our points. You're not ready to be in public with me, okay. And I'm disappointed that I can't even share an evening out with friends with you. Regardless of your reasons for doing it, it just hurts, because I'd been really looking forward to having you here with me."

"Okay." Chris sounded a lot more subdued. "So where do we go from here?"

"I don't know." Tom sighed. "The hurt is still too fresh for me to be constructive."

"Okay." Now Chris sounded positively dejected. "I... um, I guess I... I let you go back to what you were doing now."

Tom knew Chris was waiting for a consolatory word, but he still felt too raw to make a step towards him. Handling the evening without falling apart was the apex of what he could muster right now.

"I... um... I guess you're staying out late, then?" Chris asked haltingly.

"I don't know yet," Tom said. "There's an after party after the show. I'll have to stick around for a bit." He'd been looking forward to setting the dance floor on fire with Chris. Ah, well.

They listened to each other breathing for a while.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," Chris finally said, and it sounded like he was suppressing tears. "But I don't know... I didn't know how to make it work. I don't... I want to be there with you and I... I just can't make it work."

"Okay." Tom swallowed. "I don't mean to hurt you, either, okay?"

"Okay." Chris sounded very small.

"Chris." Tom found his voice gentling. "We'll figure it out, honey. When it's not all so fresh and doesn't smart so much any more. Okay?"

A sob. "Okay." Chris' silence spoke volumes. Tom suspected he was crying, and it killed him. If this was how Chris had felt earlier, when he had been the one crying at his shoulder, he'd paid enough.

"Hey," Tom said softly. "I need to be here for a little longer, but I'll be back. And then we'll talk, okay?" The door behind him opened. Tom turned his head, it was Luke. "Honey, hang on for a moment." He covered the mouth piece and gave Luke his full attention.

"Tom, intermission is about to start. People are asking for you. What should I tell them?"

"I'll be right there," Tom said.

Luke gave him a probing look. "I'll wait here," he said, a promise and a warning at the same time. Tom had heard that tone of voice a million times.

"Five minutes max," Tom said. "Really, I'll be right there."

"Okay." Luke raised his hand in acknowledgment and closed the door.

"Chris?"

"You need to go, I heard," Chris said.

"Yeah, duty calls."

Chris sniffed.

"Chris..." Tom exhaled. He still couldn't make himself say that it was okay, because he wasn't over it yet. He wanted to say something, though, but he couldn't find the words.

"Can you... at least tell me you love me?" Chris said, very subdued. "You haven't said it all evening."

"Honey, of course I love you," Tom said, relief washing over him at how easy it was. "If I didn't love you so damn much, it wouldn't hurt so awfully that you're not here."

"Just say it once?" Chris sounded very small.

"I love you, Chris." Tom was surprised how full of feeling his voice was. "To the moon and back," he quoted the picture book they kept reading to India time and again. "Okay?"

"Okay." Chris' voice was still quivering. He laughed self-deprecatingly. "Stupid feelings."

"I see you later, okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you, honey. Rest a little, I'll be home soon."

"Promise?"

"I promise." It was so easy to forget how fragile the heart was that had been given into his care. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Okay." Chris' voice had brightened a little. "I love you."

"Love you too, honey. Bye."

"Goodbye."

It didn't feel good to hang up on Chris.

Tom traced the screen absentmindedly with his fingertips and looked to the heavens for guidance. There was no way he could pack up and go home. Not only was everyone counting on him, he'd also been really looking forward to this evening, and worked so hard to be here. When the call had come and they asked him to be in the jury he'd been so excited. What an honor, to choose him, who hadn't even been out of acting school for six years, to judge such greats, to think his taste and knowledge were refined enough to do the committee proud.

That's what he'd wanted to share with Chris, knowing that somebody else was witnessing the moment, and celebrating it with him. And he couldn't regret asking him in the first place, but oh... He sighed, but what he really wanted to do was sob.

"Tom?"

It was Luke, who was checking on him.

Tom sniffed, sitting up straighter. "Yeah."

But Luke had already come out and sat down beside him.

They didn't talk, and Tom would've preferred to be alone a little bit longer. There was so much going through his head, so much he needed to think about and process. And his heart wasn't here, it was back in his flat, with Chris. Because he, Tom, couldn't figure out how to feel. A part of him was no doubt still hurt that Chris had not come, but it wasn't a personal hurt. He didn't believe Chris was out to spite him, on the contrary. It was rather like something that a part of him recognized, something old. And that part just sighed, going: "I knew it. It's happening again." As if Chris had let him down on purpose, or he'd been expecting that. As if he was trying to punish himself for believing it would be different this time. And the two kept overlapping; the one person who'd long since given up, and the person who was actually in this moment, who cared about Chris, and loved him even more for being so courageous, so vulnerable, and so brave to admit that he was in over his head. Who just wanted to go home and show him that it really was okay, that they would figure it out, and that being true to how he felt would not lead to him, Tom, abandoning him.

"I want to go home," Tom heard himself say.

"Are you two okay?" Luke asked.

Tom shrugged. "We're people like everyone else," he said. "We work really hard for what we have, Luke."

"It's your evening, though," Luke said quietly.

"Funny how that starts to pale knowing he's not here to share it with me," Tom said, and felt tears shoot into his eyes again right away. "Christ." He wiped at them angrily. "Been doing that all night."

"If he's not supportive of you..." Luke ventured very carefully.

"Eh." Tom shook his head and sniffed. "It's not that, Luke. We're just careening through three years worth of relationship in three months and sometimes I think it's going to break our necks." He'd never been so honest to anyone about what they were going through. "A few weeks ago, when Elsa came back, that was... that was the worst. This is nothing compared to that." He waved it away.

"Are you.. fighting?"

"No." At least Tom could be completely honest about that. "Not with each other, anyway." He gave Luke a sad smile. "Just with circumstances, and family, and the immense pressure to have everything figured out in a very short time."

"Because...?"

"Hm?"

"You have to figure it out in a very short time, because...?"

"Because we both want this on solid feet before Chris has to leave," Tom said. "And there are still so many things to figure out."

"Do you think he's not going to come back?"

"What? God, no. Not really." But the thought still wanted to make him to weep. "I'm afraid I'm going to pack my things, go with him and never look back." He laughed under tears. "And I always thought I was so independent and adventurous. And now look at me, I'm a mess because he can't be here for one evening. I have no idea how to survive six months of this."

Luke hesitated for a moment, and then just put one hand on Tom's back in silent support.

"Okay," he said, but Tom could hear his voice firm up, and he welcomed it, giving him something to focus on. "Here it is. I'm not giving you a choice. You're staying."

"Hah."

Luke's brow contracted as the thought. "Here's why," he said carefully. "One, contractual obligations. You're not just invited to do this, you're obliged. You're not going to get paid for the night and your otherwise impeccable reputation will suffer severely if you leave now. As your publicist, as someone who supports you and your career fully, I can't allow that."

Tom laughed wetly, inviting this breath of fresh air.

"Two, and I usually don't do this, but..." He blew out a breath. "As someone who's been gay for a while, and who's been in a gay relationship longer than you have, I feel I have the authority to tell you that respect is everything. Integrity is everything."

"Huh?"

Luke folded his hands and leaned on his knees. "Men can be manipulative shits," he said.

"Not Chris," Tom hurried to say. "He's really..."

Luke held up a hand. "Let me speak."

"Okay."

"How do I say this best without sounding condescending?" Luke laughed. Then he grew more serious. "Okay, I don't usually... Phew. You're hard work, you know that?"

It made Tom laugh. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to."

"Okay, let me try this." Luke did his best to focus. "The last thing you expect when getting together with a man is... how it can blow your guts out. 'cause you grew up believing in jocks and manliness and being tough and all that baloney... and then you fall in love with one of those idiots and suddenly..." Luke grew quiet. "Suddenly you have to deal with a lot of feelings you had no idea you had."

"That sounds about right," Tom said softly, charmed that Luke would open up to him like that, another thing that men usually didn't do.

"But as much as we may love them," Luke said, not looking at him, just getting it out. "You've got to have integrity. You've got to have a sense of self. You've got to respect yourself and your own needs. If you don't, there is no respect coming back, and that's the beginning of the end."

Tom thought about that. "If I take that to heart," he said. "I'd be... tonight would be hell because I'm so disappointed he's not here, Luke. It's easier to... be understanding of his reasons why."

"But the fact remains, you wanted him here, and he isn't. And he chose to tell you, like, ten minutes before you had to leave. What message would it send if you went home now?"

"Do it again," Tom said quietly. "'cause your feelings are more important than mine." He gave a desperate laugh. "He's already worried I'm not going to talk to him for a day after this."

Luke shrugged. "It's not your job to make him feel better about hurting you," he said. "That's what I meant about men being manipulative shits."

"Ungh." Tom hid his face in his hands. "It sucks."

Luke patted his back sympathetically. "There, there."

It made Tom laugh. "Why exactly are we doing this to ourselves again?" he asked.

"Because generally, they're pretty awesome." Luke gave him a lopsided smile.

"You mean, because we're weak," Tom joked.

"That, too." Luke smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "It's worth it," he said. "It really is, but it can be a pain in the butt until it's on an even keel. And even when it's been smooth sailing for a while, there's always something that will rock the boat eventually. But if there is... respect for each other, and your own integrity, that's what's going to save you. Every time."

They sat quietly, both men immersed in their own thoughts.

The immediacy of feeling had receded somewhat. Tom felt like he'd stepped away from the ledge and became more aware of his actual surroundings again, which was a really good thing. The pain about Chris not being here with him was no less great, but he was willing to face it as yet another necessary step, trusting that their willingness to be together would help them figure out how to deal with this in the long run.

But right now, Luke was right, he had a job to do.

"Should we go back in?" Tom asked. "What's the time, anyway?"

"Yeah, intermission should be almost over," Luke said as they both got up.

"What did you tell them?"

"That you had to deal with a family emergency," Luke said. "So basically, the truth."

Tom put his hand on his shoulder and gave him a thankful smile as they walked up the ramp to the door.


	10. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Chris work hard to recover the trust they shared.

Tom's thoughts remained with the situation at home for the next ten, twenty minutes, but then finally, he started to relax and enjoy the show. Predictably, the ceremony took longer than planned, but spirits were high, so nobody complained. After, as the hall was reset for the after party, and the guests withdrew to the reception hall, Tom found himself in his element, flitting from one group to the next, making sure that everyone had a good time, and being drawn into one conversation after another. The after party started at 11.30 and it quickly became clear that Tom would not be able to leave within the next thirty minutes. He found that he didn't want to, either.

The work helped him get his equilibrium back whatever was going on at home. Being a jury member and presenter at this prestigious event was a perk of his job, and he loved it. It felt good to return to that truth, after everything the evening had brought. But being in a relationship, with someone waiting for him at home, also meant being accountable, so he took the time and made another call as soon as it was clear he would be later than he had promised.

It wasn't easy; he was just getting into the evening and didn't want it ruined by another difficult talk with Chris. Sighing, he found a quiet nook and dialed Chris' number.

"Hey," Chris said when he picked up after the second ring.

"Hey there," Tom replied. He realized he was still upset about Chris not coming along. "Chris, I'm going to run later than I thought. The after party just started and I'd like to stick around for a bit."

"Oh." It was quiet for a moment. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Just... you said wait up for you and you wanted to come home early, so..."

"I'm sorry," Tom said. He wasn't, really. He still needed a moment to think, and he would not get it if he went home now.

"Do you... want me to wait for you to come home?" Chris asked.

"Honey, I have no idea how late it's going to be," Tom said. "I would hate to think of you waiting for me." At the same time, it was a heartwarming thought.

"So you're staying out really late," Chris summarized.

"I wanted to stay out really late with you," Tom said. "Sadly, the commitment I have is here, and you are there. Since I couldn't put the two together, I have to set one priority. And I'm setting it here, tonight, because..." He sighed. "I want to be here, celebrate the hard work that I put into this and unwind a bit."

"I understand." Chris sounded sad, but indeed, understanding.

"I love you," Tom said, and he was surprised how warm his voice sounded. "I really wish you were here."

"So do I." And he believed that, too.

The most surprising part, Tom mused time and again in the course of the rest of the night, was that there was a life after Chris' "No". There were two different planes of existence, one where a part of him felt like he was suffocating and dying because Chris would tell him he couldn't be there, and another, where he was grown up enough to know that they wouldn't always be able to be together, and that he was well able to still enjoy what he was doing.

It was three o'clock when the party started to wind down, and he realized that rather than go on another drinking sojourn to a bar with his co-presenters, he really wanted to go home. He said his goodbyes to the people who were still going strong and then found himself a cab.

  


* * *

  


The flat was quiet and dark when he came home. He felt too tired to take a shower and just shed his clothes on his way to the bathroom, where he used the facilities, brushed his teeth and removed his make-up. He was naked when he crawled into bed with Chris, and right into his arms.

"Did you have a good time?" Chris mumbled, pulling him in and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Yeah." Tom's hands roamed over the familiar features of Chris' upper arms and back. "But now I want to be here with you."

Chris dared to dip his head and kiss him, and Tom rose into the caress. A part of him still smarted and wondered if he really thought he could keep trusting Chris after what he'd done. He held on to his lover's sturdy form, his forehead pressed against his clavicle and then stretched into another kiss, which was as tender and careful as the first. He felt all these emotions rise; resentment over Chris letting him go on his own, spoiling his evening; compassion with what Chris was going through; sheer delight at being able to come home to this; fear at what he was supposed to do when that wasn't possible because they would work at places miles apart.

All these feelings wanted to tear him into different directions, either trying to guard him from hurt by removing him from the possible source of it, or urging him to stay in the here and now to reap what benefits he could before it would be over. But this was also real; the gentleness and reverence of Chris' touch, his lover hesitantly asking him for permission to be with him, asking him to meet him halfway, to not abandon him over this.

Tom felt that while things weren't as easy as they had been the day before, he still wanted to be with this man. He had no forgiveness or absolution to give, but he could be present. He wanted to be present.

He felt Chris' fingertips gently tracing up his spine to his neck. The subtle shudder in his body told him that he was crying. Chris had been crying through every step of this painful evening; from the moment he'd realized that he had to tell Tom that he wouldn't be coming along, through begging him to let him know he was still loved, to the relief now that he was back home with him. This wasn't the demeanor of someone who'd taken any step of this lightly or done it out of spite. It was the demeanor of someone who'd hit rock bottom with something they hadn't expected to happen, and were inconsolable with what it was doing to those they loved.

Tom pulled him closer and held him gently. They didn't speak. But Chris' hands contracting and releasing against his sides as he cried into his shoulder, and Tom holding him and kissing the top of his head time and again, said more than words ever could.

  


* * *

  


India came just after eight, and they woke in basically the same position they'd fallen asleep in. Chris' eyes were visibly gritty as he blinked against the spare light that fell through the drawn blinds.

"Hey," Tom said, still way too tired to be very coherent.

"Ungh." Chris wiped his eyes. "Sorry."

"'s okay," Tom said. "Don't worry about it."

Chris stretched up, into a kiss. Tom was happy to oblige him.

"I just want to stay here," Chris complained, cuddling back against Tom's chest after pressing a quick kiss against his breast bone.

"Okay." Tom shifted to settle Chris' weight and ran his fingers soothingly through his hair. They typically had about ten minutes until India went from waking up to calling for them in earnest. Tom only realized he'd fallen back asleep when the space against him was suddenly vacated, and Chris then pulled the duvet over him carefully and tucked him in. "Don't go."

"I love you." Chris leaned over him and kissed him. "Go back to sleep, honey."

"Not without you." Tom sleepily pulled him in again, making Chris topple on top of him, quietly chuckling.

He humored Tom, headbumping him like a giant, gentle cat, complete with a loud lion's purr. The tickle of his beard against his neck made Tom giggle, and then his face was covered with wet kisses, ending on his lips. The teasing made way for gentle passion when Tom slung his arms around Chris' neck and pulled him into a serious kiss, but India started to sound desperate and lonely, making it impossible to enjoy their intimacy.

"I love India, I truly do," Tom sighed. "But right now..."

"I know." Chris pressed a last kiss on Tom's chin. "But I've got to go look after her."

"Come back."

"Always." Chris rubbed his nose against Tom's, but then he got up for good.

Mewling with discontent, Tom reached for Chris' pillow and curled up around it. He watched Chris get into his comfortable track bottoms and a shirt, and then his lover left, not without blowing him a kiss from the door.

He'd left the baby phone on, and Tom listened to him greet his daughter with gentle delight. He smiled through their expressions of joy upon seeing each other again, and how loving Chris was while changing and dressing her. When he heard Chris come down the stairs, he called out for him.

Chris appeared in the doorway with his daughter, who bounced on his arm upon seeing Tom. "What is it?"

"Will you bring her with her bottle when it's ready?" Tom asked.

"Are you sure?" Chris asked.

"I'm not done waking up with you," Tom said.

"Okay." Suddenly, Chris was all business. "We'll be right back."

Tom smiled and cuddled back into the sheets, being reminded that he was still naked. As much as he tried to care, he was too tired and sluggish and all he wanted was a few more minutes with Chris. He dozed in the half-light of the still mostly drawn blinds until the door opened and Chris stepped in with India.

"Do you still want us?"

"Uh-huh." Tom blinked, raising his head. He patted the spot right in front of him. "Come here, honey."

"Me or India?"

"India." Tom smiled, coming up on his elbow.

"And me?"

Tom patted the space behind him.

"Ah." All business, Chris settled the baby against the same pillow that Tom was using, sticking the bottle into the gap between pillow and headboard. "Here you go."

"Hello sweetling," Tom greeted the baby, rubbing her belly. "And how did you sleep, hm?"

She gurgled at him and kicked while her father was busy getting out of his clothes.

"What are you doing?" Tom asked, torn between laughter and being scandalized.

"Getting ready for cuddling," Chris said, already sliding under the duvet behind him.

"This is so wrong," Tom groaned, but he couldn't stop laughing.

"Hey honey!" Chris popped up behind him, smiling at his daughter. "Are you ready for breakfast? Hm? Do you want your bottle, little sparrow?" He reached over Tom's body for the bottle. "Is that what you want? Hm? Is that what you want?"

India kicked excitedly, reaching for her meal. Chris scooted closer so he was flush against Tom's back. He kissed the back of Tom's shoulder and wiggled the nipple in India's mouth until she had latched on. Her eyes went from Tom's to Chris' face, and back, as she sucked.

Tom rested his head on his arm and had India hold his forefinger. Chris was draped half over him from the back, holding India's bottle. It was like being smothered with love from all sides. Tom reached out and pulled India closer. He cradled her in his arm, inhaling her intoxicating baby smell, and closed his eyes until he heard Chris' whisper in his ear.

"Hold her bottle for me, please?"

He did, and was instantly rewarded with Chris practically wrapping himself around him, his face burrowed between his shoulder blades. Tom transferred the bottle to the hand cradling India overhead and used the other one to cover Chris' arm, which was wrapped around his middle.

For a long while, there was nothing audible but India's sucking as they all reveled in being so close. Tom didn't know if he was ready yet to make love with Chris, but having all this love piled on top of him felt safe and secure.

Tom dozed off once more and only India's protests made him realize that she was done drinking and wanted the bottle gone.

"Sorry, baby," he mumbled, kissing her forehead. He knew she'd have to burp but he was too tired to facilitate it.

"It's okay," Chris said soothingly from behind. "Give her to me."

Tom managed and buried his nose against Chris' neck, one arm around his middle. There was a little movement and rustling, then finally, India's little burp.

"Good girl," Chris said. "Now hold on."

Next thing Tom knew, India joined them under the duvet, draped over Chris' chest. Her little naked toes kicked against his arm, making him open his eyes, practically being nose to nose with the baby stripped down to her diapers. Chris' arm wrapped around him and pulled him close, pressing his lips against his forehead, while his other hand rested on his daughter's back soothingly.

It was exactly what Tom had worried about for the past three weeks; whether doing this would be appropriate with India, what Elsa would have to say about it etc etc. And now here he was and couldn't be bothered to get scandalized over his little family being so close in the most natural of ways, the baby so obviously content to be with the people she loved, soaking up their love and warmth through her skin.

"Okay?" Chris asked, stroking over his head.

Tom just nodded and squeezed his middle.

"Sleep a little," Chris soothed. "She'll be quiet for the next half hour and I'll be here."

Tom cuddled himself in and closed his eyes.

  


* * *

  


It was completely clear that with just about four and a half solid hours of sleep to his name, Tom was absolutely knackered. But he got up with Chris and India when the baby made it known that she wanted to move, and while Chris prepared breakfast, Tom took a quick shower.

He was in his most comfortable clothes, his hair sticking in all directions, when he joined Chris and India in the living room. The baby was playing with a huge teething ring on her rug, and Chris had set the table here so they could have an eye on her while they ate. The first sip of coffee was a revelation. Tom sighed with content and smiled at Chris.

"Thank you."

"Sure." Chris nodded at the pancakes he had prepared. "Tuck in before they're cold."

Tom did.

They ate mostly in silence. After, Tom insisted on cleaning up so Chris could engage the baby in some more physical play. While he was at it, he used the moment to get his suit ready for dry cleaning and quickly changed the bedsheets, as well, and started a new load of laundry. It felt soothing and familiar.

A little at odds of what to do after, since he was still incredibly tired and not up to starting a project or being productive, Tom curled up on the sofa with a warm blanket and dozed to the sound of Chris playing with his daughter. He was simply too emotionally exhausted to talk, or try to make heads or tails of what had happened the previous night, but he wanted to be close to the people he loved.

He heard Chris discourage India from wanting to play with him on account of him being tired, and he let him. Basically, he just wanted Chris. He would wait until he found the time to be with him.

  


* * *

  


Tom's time-out from being a surrogate father ended when Chris finally put India into his arms.

"Babe, she's been asking for you for the past half hour and I'm exhausted," Chris told him. "She wants you."

Sighing, Tom accepted the baby. He turned on his back and sat her on his stomach, leaned against his raised legs.

"If you could scoot forward, I'd sit with you?" Chris suggested.

Tom gave him a look, but did as asked. Chris fell into the seat with a groan, and Tom settled his head against his thigh.

"Better." Chris smiled at him and leaned over to kiss his mouth.

Tom surprised himself when he reached up behind Chris' head and kept him down to kiss him again, and again until the baby started bouncing in his lap and making smacking noises.

A little embarrassed, Tom licked his lips and gave a smiling Chris a look. "You started it."

"Not sorry." Chris followed up with a chaser for good measure. "I got worried because you weren't talking."

"Hm." Tom concentrated on India, bouncing her on his belly. "Just tired, Chris." He shrugged. "Waiting until you had time for me."

Chris made him look at him by sliding his hand under his chin. He wordlessly shook his head.

Blushing, Tom wrenched his head free and pretended to be busy with the little girl. India wanted to play patty cakes, and Tom humored her, then sang a few of her favorite baby songs with her, moving her hands and arms appropriately to the lyrics. She squealed and laughed and made him sing her favorite four times, then toppled forward, giving him a big baby hug.

"You're impossible to be in a bad mood with," Tom chided her gently while he stroked her little back.

She raised her head and smacked her lips.

"That, too? Your Daddy is rubbing off on you." He offered his puckered lips, making kissing noises, and she giggled. Smiling, he sat up with her and held her on his arm, shyly kissing her cheek. "There you go."

He got a sloppy kiss back for his troubles – she'd got better with practice – and then she just leaned her head against his and stayed that way, close and trusting.

Next thing he knew, she let herself fall back, and he laid her out on his legs, tickling her, which resulted in delighted shrieks and giggles. He let her ride on his knee, and she insisted on "falling over" every few hops, completely fearless, because she was so sure he would never let her go.

She ended up cuddling in his arm, snuggled against his shoulder, her little hand resting on his chest. "I love you, too, baby girl," Tom said, and felt Chris' arm wrap around his shoulder, and squeezing. He allowed Chris to pull him in, his lips pressed against his temple.

"I'm so sorry," he heard him whisper harshly. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I know." Tom exhaled and reached over to rest his hand on Chris' thigh. Chris quickly covered it with his own. "I wish it was that easy," Tom said. "I wish it wouldn't hurt because I know you were just following your heart."

"Me, too." Chris rubbed his shoulder, and they just rested like this for a moment. India was done sooner than they were, and practically dived from Tom's arm across their laps.

"Hello," Tom said. "Hello little girl? Should we not take any attention away from you? Hm?" He tickled her toes, eliciting that wonderful pearly baby laugh. She made them engage with her, and with each other, playing, until she'd had enough.

"I think it's time for that second bottle," Chris decided, scooting forward on the sofa to get up.

"Can we stay in today, watch TV, and be really lazy bums?" Tom asked hopefully.

"Sure." Chris leaned over and kissed him again.

This time, Tom smiled.

  


* * *

  


He lay on top of Chris on the recliner while India was taking her nap. He didn't need much, just Chris' heartbeat under his ear, being lifted by his every breath, his fingertips tracing along his shoulders.

"Baby, you've got to start talking at some point," Chris prodded gently.

Tom just shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I just want this," Tom said stubbornly.

"I need to talk," Chris insisted quietly.

Tom mewled. “I don’t want to.” He felt Chris’ chuckle more than he heard it.

Of course Chris was right. Of course they needed to talk. But braced against the reality of having had to brave the previous night on his own after looking forward to sharing it with Chris, he needed this simple connection of just being with him. Of reminding himself why he used to trust him not to hurt him. He needed to convince that very vulnerable side of himself that being with Chris was okay, that no harm would come to him.

Basically, he was hiding because he had no idea what would happen if he faced up to reality. To the reality that their needs would not always run the same course, and that Chris would disappoint him from time to time.

It was a really scary thing to think about. And he didn’t want to.

“Okay, honey,” Chris said. “I’ll just talk, okay?”

Tom shrugged, not thinking it was such a great idea.

“I talked to my lawyer in Australia last night,” Chris said. “He had some information for me about divorce procedures.”

That was not what Tom had expected they would talk about. He got up on his elbows and looked at Chris. “And?”

“Basically, we have three options,” Chris explained. “We can divorce by Australian law, by Spanish law or by California law because we are residents there.”

“Okay.”

“Divorce in Australia will definitely take a year,” Chris explained. “We are supposed to be separated for that long before procedures can commence.”

“Ungh.” Tom had been afraid of something like that.

“Under California law, it’s going to take at least six months. I’m not sure I want to divorce there, though, because it is a lawyer’s world and I’m not sure that they even have an interest in an amicable divorce. Also, court filings are open to the public, which means ample opportunity for the press to ruin things. I would rather avoid that. That leaves Spain.”

“You’d divorce Elsa in Spain, where the advantage is definitely hers because she knows the language and is familiar with the law?” Tom asked.

“I just said it’s an option. Procedures would be fastest and least complicated in Spain, but courts are known to rule in the mother’s favor when it comes to custody questions.”

“You can’t take that risk.”

“It’s worth exploring if we can come to some sort of agreement before we take it to court,” Chris said. “Otherwise it’s… it’s a year to wait until we can officially be together. Strike that.” He blew out a long breath. “At least a year until I could get married to you.”

“Fuck, Chris.” It just exploded out of Tom. “God.”

“Theoretically, at least.” Chris temporized.

Tom’s heart raced and he had trouble catching his breath. “You can’t just spring this on me.”

“I thought that was the point,” Chris said gently.

“Of divorcing Elsa?” Tom asked, needing to find something to hold on to.

Chris actually looked hurt.

“I’m sorry, this just knocked me for a loop,” Tom said, still completely shaken.

“I’m trying to make things so we can be together,” Chris said. “And stop hiding and pretending. I’m not in love with Elsa any more. I’m in love with you, Tom. Maybe we won’t want to get married right away, but I at least want the option.”

“Half the world wants that option,” Tom said deadpan. “It’s not even legal yet. Not here, anyway.”

“It’ll be when we get there,” Chris said with a quiet conviction that Tom found admirable. There was an amused twinkle in his eye. “You know for someone who wants to be public now, you look pretty ruffled by the idea.”

“I’m pretty ruffled by you casually mentioning marriage,” Tom pointed out and cuffed him. “I was just saying to Luke that if you ever proposed…” He suddenly blushed. “Forget it.”

“Yeah?” Chris was obviously charmed. “Keep going…?”

“No.” Tom hid his face against Chris’ chest and slung his arms around the back of his head.

Chris laughed. “So you were casually discussing marriage to me with Luke…”

“No, Luke was a nosy, romantically inclined bastard asking stupid questions,” Tom complained, his voice muffled by Chris’ shirt.

“Liiiiiike?” Chris prompted.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Hey.” But Chris’ voice was still full of laughter. “I’m dying to know.”

“ _You_ didn’t want to commit!” Tom complained, looking up again. “You told me… You said you weren’t sure. You said because you got married to Elsa so fast you wanted to take your time with me…”

“I want to be with _you_ ,” Chris said. “Whatever shape or form this will take in the future. But I know I can’t get married to you as long as I’m still married to Elsa. And I want to know I can, when we feel the time is right.” He blinked. “Why are we fighting about this again?”

“I’m sulking because you wouldn’t go out with me and pretend we’re just pals, while you make calls in the middle of the night trying to make sure we can get…” He swallowed.

“You can say it. It actually doesn’t hurt,” Chris teased.

“Married, dammit.”

Chris laughed. His expression turned gentle as he regarded him. “Yes.”

“Argh.” Tom went back to hiding his face against Chris’ chest.

“I love you,” Chris said with feeling, his fingertips gently stroking over his shoulders. “You make me do things that I like myself better for.”

“I feel very stupid now.”

Chris just kept caressing him until Tom finally got over his embarrassment and got on all fours to kiss him.

“Okay now?” Chris asked gently.

“Yeah.” Tom kissed him again, a little deeper this time. His head was still spinning. “Christ.”

“Come here, babe.” Chris got on his side and pulled him into his arms. “Let me hold you?”

Tom did. His heart pounded in his chest, but Chris’ embrace felt safe and secure.

“I had a pretty hard time last night,” Chris said quietly. “You not coming home early really threw me for a loop.”

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t, really, but he wanted Chris to continue talking.

“It was a huge wake-up call, Tom,” Chris admitted. “I think I suddenly knew how you feel about me being away for such a long time.”

“Hah.”

“I think I’ve been super spoiled by Elsa coming along to everything; I thought it would kind of… work itself out between you and me without me having to do much about it. Like it always did, so far.”

Tom didn’t say anything, just listened.

“I think I got that it is very possible that you’re making decisions that… won’t always mean we’ll always be together, and… that I need to hold up my end of the bargain and listen more and work together with you so we will have plans in place and all that… I promise I’ll put more of an effort in,” he said. “We’ll… we’ll sit down and make plans that work now, not just at some point in the future..”

Tom exhaled, feeling as if a huge weight had dropped off his shoulders. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry I’m such a loghead and don’t always get it right away,” Chris said.

“Now you’re fishing,” Tom accused him.

“A little,” Chris admitted, batting his lashes at Tom.

“Not Elsa,” Tom pointed at himself. “Not working.” He stretched into a kiss, feeling Chris’ hand travel up his side. “Hmmm.”

Maybe he should point out that Chris didn’t have to take out the big guns every time they had a disagreement, either: Proposing to buy a house together, casually mentioning marriage as an option in the future. But the mere thought still felt so private and so good that he didn’t want to chance being teased for it again; and he was definitely not ready to discuss the real thing.

But keeping it in his heart to take out and look at it every now and then, definitely yes.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm not a lawyer, obviously, so please take the divorce information with a grain of salt. I'm happy to provide the public links that I got the information from if you're interested.


	11. Brothers and Mothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris goes back to therapy. Meanwhile, Tom is taking an unexpected call at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weekend off. I spent a whole day writing. Whee! :)

"Are you sure you don't mind having India while I'm here?"

"This is the sixth time you've asked me, and yes, I'm sure." Tom leaned over to kiss Chris out of the car. "I'm just sorry I can't pick you up. Don't linger." He smiled.

"I won't." Chris followed up with a longer, deeper kiss, just needing to feel the connection flow between them. He felt Tom's lips under his curve into a smile.

"Honey, you're going to be late."

"I'd rather go home with you."

"Out," Tom threatened playfully. "India and I are hungry."

India was actually peacefully playing in the back seat, looking very content with her life.

"Ungh! Okay! You're mean," Chris complained.

"Love is getting your boyfriend to therapy even though it means having to miss out on his company," Tom pointed out. "It's just an hour, Chris."

"An hour too many," Chris grumbled. "Okay." He sighed. "Since you two don't want me any more..."

Tom laughed. "We love you and I promise we'll waste away pining for you while you..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." But now he had to laugh, as well. "I see you in an hour."

"Counting on it."

One last kiss later, Chris found himself on the sidewalk, waving after the car.

  


He made it to the appointment with ten minutes to spare, which he spent listlessly staring out of the waiting room window into the darkness of an early December evening. They'd had a lovely day filming, to be honest; the mood on the set friendly and relaxed with just him, Tom, Natalie and a few of the Dark Elves, picking up on the scenes they had first done in Iceland. Tom and he had always got along well as actors, but now they functioned absolutely seamlessly, and Natalie seemed to get a kick out of just watching them do their thing. In a way, it was very lucky that they were filming these very personal scenes between Loki and Thor last, after almost everyone had left. The rushes looked promising; Alan had been very happy. It was with a good conscience that he had left at the end of the day.

"Chris?" He looked up to see Michael's bulk fill out the door frame. "I'm ready for you now."

  


He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sitting at its edge with his elbows on his knees. Michael had sat down opposite of him, completely relaxed, and took in his position with a quick glance, then gave him an encouraging smile.

"So," he said. "How have you been since last week?"

Ah, the dreaded question. Chris rubbed his hands. "Eh... good, I guess. Up and down."

"How did the thing with Elsa progress?"

"Thing with Elsa?" Chris sat up, furrowing his brow.

"We talked about that last week. You wanted to know what to do for Christmas, and said you couldn't decide because you didn't know if Elsa wanted to go."

"Oh. That." He'd completely forgotten that had been a problem. "Wow, that seems a long time ago."

Michael nodded. "What did you decide to do? Have you decided on something?"

"We're going. Tom and I, I mean. I want us to go and see my family. I hope Elsa comes along with India, but I don't know yet."

"That's a huge step forward from last week."

Chris shrugged.

"To introduce your boyfriend to the rest of the family? Sounds like a big deal to me."

"Oh. Well, my parents already know, and they're cool with it. My older brother Luke knows, as well. He's not quite cool with it, but he's trying. Leaves my baby brother." He sighed. "He likes Tom. It's not that I don't think he can't deal with it, but the teasing is going to be something. I'd like to be on hand to stuff it back into his throat, that's why I want to wait until we see him in person."

"How much younger is he than you are?"

"Seven years."

Michael's brows went up. "That's quite an age difference," he said.

Chris shrugged. "We went to LA together to make it. First few years were tough. It makes you close. We pull through for each other."

"So why haven't you told him yet?" Michael leaned back in his seat.

"I just said," Chris pointed out. "He's going to make a ton of jokes."

"You're seven years older than him. You were already in school when he learned to walk and talk," Michael said calmly. "Why would his taunts make such a difference to you?"

"He looks up to me," Chris said. "He depends on me telling him wrong from right."

"I thought that was your parents' job."

A little confused, Chris shifted in his seat.

"He's... what, twenty now?"

"Twenty-two," Chris said. "I was an idiot at twenty-two."

"We all were," Michael grinned. "That's why it's called growing up."

"I'm not sure why we're talking about this," Chris said.

"You have a brother who is much younger than you, who is the only member of your close family that you haven't told yet that you're together with Tom. Your reason is that you, and I'm quoting you, _want to be on hand to stuff his insults back into his throat._ The next thing you were saying was that you are the one who is supposed to teach him wrong from right." Michael inclined his head. "I'm not sure I understand how the two fit together."

"Liam was a difficult kid," Chris said defensively.

"Ah."

"Nothing to _ah_ about." The topic made Chris incredibly uncomfortable. "He used to act out growing up. A lot. Everyone had to pitch in to keep him in check."

"I thought you had parents for that."

"He broke Mum's finger fighting," Chris said heatedly. "Someone had to do something about it!"

"And that someone was you?" Michael asked. "Where was your Dad when that happened?"

"Out of town," Chris mumbled.

"And what happened when he got back?"

"I got told I should've known better than to scrap with my brother, since I'm older," Chris said stubbornly. "What else."

"So you tried to protect your mother and got scolded for it?"

"No no no, I shouldn't have listened to Liam in the first place," Chris said.

"And you're basically worrying about the same thing right now," Michael concluded. "That his reaction is going to be over the top, and you need to be right there to contain it."

"Why are we even talking about this?" Chris asked heatedly. "It's not what I came here for!"

Michael leaned on his armrest and regarded him calmly. "What did you come here for?"

And they were smack in the middle of what Chris seriously wanted to talk about even less than Liam and his antics. "Nevermind," he said.

"It's not a good day for you, isn't it?" Michael asked

"It was until I got here." Chris wiped his face. "Sheesh. Sorry."

Michael shrugged but gave him a long time to sort his thoughts, just sitting calmly.

"I've been having a hard time Sunday," Chris finally confessed. "Tom asked me to go to a function with him and I chickened out last minute."

Michael just nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"I don't know what was worse! If I'd gone with him, then only as his friend, and that felt so wrong that I was rather staying home. But being home while he was gone was hell. He was so disappointed. He cried. I cried. It was a damn mess."

"Did he understand your reasons?" Michael asked.

Chris nodded. "Yeah. He wasn't trying to change my mind. He called Miss Rose – India's babysitter – to cancel her coming over that night. He was really trying to put on a brave face."

"Are you two okay now?"

"I think so." Chris rubbed at an invisible spot on his jeans.

"Why just think?"

"We haven't made love since," Chris said. "He's been lying on top of me all day, but..." He trailed out. "I shouldn't even talk about that."

Michael shrugged. "I'm not bothered."

Chris laughed. "I figured." He smiled wistfully. "There's just something about that... that makes it all okay."

"It is a sign of trust," Michael said. "Did you try to initiate it?"

"There just wasn't... I don't know how to describe it. Just not the right mood."

"Okay."

Another moment of quiet followed while Chris was thinking back to his Sunday evening. "I thought I'd come here to talk about how tough Sunday night was," he said thoughtfully. "But in hindsight... I don't know. He'd looked forward to that evening so much. I tried to make it work so much. It didn't. He went on his own. I went nuts at home without him. We both survived. We're still together. It's kind of... it's kind of reassuring, you know? To know you can disagree about something major, and it doesn't spell the end of your ma... relationship." He knew he'd wanted to say marriage. It made him shake his head at himself. "I just want to be with that man for the rest of my life," he said simply. "That is all."

"That's a pretty big thing," Michael said.

"Yeah." He smiled. "But I'm so _sure_ ," he said. "I just want to jump over this difficult time and get to where we're out and everything is okay."

"Difficult like talking to Liam about it?"

Chris gave him a look but he had to laugh. "You don't let go of a bone once you have it, do you?"

Michael shrugged modestly. "No."

This time, Chris just thought about it a little longer. "I really think I want to be a role model for Liam," he said. "He's a good kid now, and he looks up to me and Luke. We're very tight, the three of us. When Luke and I went into acting, of course he had to give it a try, as well. He keeps saying if we'd both become bakers, he would've wanted to become that."

"So what do you not want him to become now? Gay?"

"Nah." Chris waved that away. "If he found someone he loved, I'd tell him go for it. Nothing wrong with being gay."

"But...?"

"But leaving your wife and kid, man, not good. Not good if you don't have a really good reason."

"Ah."

"I feel like I can't talk to him about it until I've figured it out; until it's all on a more even keel."

"What if it won't be until Christmas?"

Chris gave him a pained look.

"You talk to me about how you want to be with Tom for the rest of your life, yet when I ask you how this relationship compares to the one with Elsa, you clamp up and want to protect her. If you don't allow yourself to feel what went wrong in your relationship with her, you'll hardly ever find out why you're now with Tom."

"It would be so easy if I could just say I prefer men, but that's not the truth!" It exploded out of Chris. "I just prefer Tom. I'd love him just as much with lady parts. But it's easier if everyone thinks I've just turned gay."

"Chris, while you're here, we're dealing with what's best for you, not for the rest of the world," Michael made clear. "What you tell them, later, that's something entirely different. But you need to allow yourself to feel what you feel."

Chris fell silent. They'd had this conversation before, and he started to understand that he would not get around it. Moreover, he started to believe it was the only way to get where he needed to go, because frankly, what he'd been doing so far had not given him the results that he wanted.

"That's scary," he said with a small laugh.

"I know," Michael acknowledged. "And men like you and me, who seem to have big shoulders that everyone is happy to lean on, we might feel we're letting people down when we admit that we're just as afraid and confused and questioning as everyone else."

"Yeah." That rang entirely too true. "I think that made Sunday night so horrid."

Michael inclined his head.

"Ugh," Chris said. "Give me a moment, that's hard."

"Okay."

He thought back to that evening, to consoling Tom at the kitchen table. He was good at that, being Tom's strong shoulder, and he knew that Tom enjoyed having him in that role, someone he knew could weather whatever came down the line for them, or especially for Tom. "When Tom left that night, I felt completely abandoned," Chris said quietly. He couldn't look at Michael or he would've lost his courage. "I know I told him I couldn't come along, but... I must have thought he would stay home with me, then. Not that it was a calculated thought or something. I was sure I knew what I wanted and then he went off without me. It really hurt."

"Yeah."

"I got busy doing all kinds of things, sending him messages with pictures of me and India... he'd said he wanted me to message him, so I did, but he didn't message back for about two hours. And when he called, I just lost it. He was so remote, he was so hurt about me not being by his side." His voice trickled out; remembering that moment was still painful.

"You lost it?" Michael said, very quietly, to make him keep talking.

"I started crying," Chris said, still not looking at him. "I asked him if he still loved me because he hadn't said it all night. Ah." He wiped his face. "Very needy."

"Trusting," Michael said in the same quiet tone. "To be so vulnerable with someone."

Chris shot him a quick, embarrassed look. "He said he'd be home soon, not to worry, that things would be okay. But then later he called and said he needed to stay because he'd made a commitment. He was right, of course."

"How did that make you feel?"

"I don't know, it was... he couldn't be home sooner. But he would come home."

"And did he?"

"Yeah." Chris smiled wistfully. "More crying." He pointed to himself. "Pitiful."

"What did Tom do?"

"Hold me until I fell asleep. Shit." Chris blew out a breath. "That is so fucking unmanly I don't know why I'm even talking about this."

"And do you realize you keep making disparaging remarks about yourself as soon as you think you come across as weak?" Michael said. "You have a wonderful partner who, from what I can gather, felt really hurt by what you did."

"He really was." Chris grimaced.

"And while he stuck to his guns, he came home, and held you all night, no questions asked, no accusations, no fights."

"No."

"Here's what you called what you did: Needy. Pitiful. Unmanly."

"Lucky," Chris said, knowing what Michael was trying to do.

"Showing damn good sense for finding this guy," Michael pointed out. "And not letting that go."

"Really?" Chris gave him a hopeful look.

"I want to hear the rest of that story," Michael said. "What happened the next day?"

"Um." He worried his bottom lip, trying to find a way to summarize his feelings. It wasn't that easy.

"Did the accusations come then?"

"No." He grimaced. "This is getting into encroaching on Tom's privacy," he said.

"Tell me how you felt."

"I was happy that he wanted to be so close, but he didn't talk for most of the day," Chris said, feeling a little out of his comfort zone now. "He loves to talk, so that was odd." He smiled to himself. "I ended up telling him what info my lawyer had come back to me with about divorce options. Eh." He blushed. "I think I went overboard a bit when I told him I wanted to get that over with so I'd be free to marry him." He blushed a deeper red. "That could've backfired majorly."

"Did it?"

"No." He smiled. "No, that went okay."

"What would you tell Liam right now about your relationship with Tom?" Michael prompted him.

"That he's the best thing that has ever happened to me," Chris said. "That you are really lucky if you ever meet someone like that in your lifetime, and if it happens to you, to grab it and hold on to it with everything you have and not let go whatever happens. Because it is this rare, this special, and you shouldn't let anyone or anything keep you from going after it."

"That's what you did," Michael said softly. "Sounds like a great role model to me."

 

* * *

 

Tom and India were reading a book when Chris came home. Tom was wedged into the sofa corner with India comfortably settled against his chest, the book propped up over India's toes. Her head was lying against the hollow of Tom's shoulder, and her left hand plucked dreamily at his left sleeve as she listened to his voice.

They both lifted their heads and smiled when he came in, and Chris leaned over the sofa's back to kiss Tom, and then kiss India. "Hey you two," he said. "Good to see you."

"How was it?" Tom asked, ready to take a break from reading.

But India bounced impatiently and pulled harder at his sleeve.

"Looks like you got a job to do," Chris said. "I'll just start dinner if that's all right?"

"Come read with us, we're almost done," Tom said, sitting up to make room for Chris behind his back.

Without much ado, Chris slipped over the back into the space provided by his lover, and found himself being settled against just a moment later.

"Ah. That's better." Tom did a pretty good imitation of India, snuggling into Chris shoulder.

"Eh! Eh!" India twisted to see Chris' face, then pointed at the book. "Eh!"

"I'll be quiet, I promise," Chris told her, stroking her head. Tom strained to kiss him once more, and he was happy to oblige. "Better continue or you'll have a riot on your hands." He smiled.

Tom returned the smile warmly and then went back to reading: "Ah, where were we. Right." And he continued the narrative.

Chris closed his eyes, kissing the top of Tom's head. He was tired and exhausted, but in a very satisfying way. Tom's weight against him felt comfortable and comforting, and his voice was so pleasant to listen to. He realized that Tom was actually reading to India, a real narrative with a plot and a lot of sentences, not just going through a picture book with her. His baby was full of rapt attention, though, probably as fascinated by Tom's evocative voice as he was.

When there was a pause because Tom had to find a new page, Chris dropped his mouth to Tom's ear. "I want to make love with you," he said very quietly. He felt more than heard the short huff of breath under his hand. Tom gave him a quick look. "Yeah?" Chris asked, rubbing his thumb over his tummy.

"Yeah." Tom stretched into a kiss.

"Good." Chris kissed him properly, much to his daughter's dismay. He had to laugh. "Okay, okay," he said. "I'm not trying to steal your Tom."

"Yeah you are." Tom's eyes twinkled. "I'm very glad you do."

 

* * *

 

Of course they had to wait until India went to sleep, but Chris loved the quiet anticipation, the soft, not really accidental touches as they prepared a simple dinner and set the table together. India was very clingy for Tom that night, and Tom stripped to his T-shirt and strapped her to his front in a sling, then stole one of Chris' bigger cardigans and buttoned it over the baby so she shared his warmth.

"I think being in day care all day was really exhausting for her," Tom said.

"And waking up without us. Miss Rose told me during lunch hour that she's been looking for us all morning."

They gave each other guilty looks.

"We're doing what we can," Tom pointed out. "Not every day can be a Sunday." He exhaled. "I've got to tell you something. Elsa called me while you were gone."

"Oh." Chris mechanically kept setting the table. "What did she want?"

"Talk to India." Tom gave him a meaningful look.

Chris retrieved their hot tea and sat beside Tom and India on the bench. "Do you know how much I'm not ready to deal with that at the end of this really long day," he sighed.

"I know. I'll make it quick." Tom resettled the baby in her sling and gave her the bottle while softly tapping her back. "I didn't really know what to do, to be honest. She said she'd purposefully called when she knew you weren't there, to see if it would be easier to talk with me."

"That's not the way to go," Chris said, shaking his head. "Did she pick up the date from the baby board?"

"Must have. She knew you weren't here." Tom accepted a tidbit from Chris' fingers and chewed it while he rocked the baby. "We talked for a moment but I said I needed to talk to you first, that we didn't want to upset India further, because she already has a hard time."

"How did she react?"

"Cried," Tom said simply. "I would have. She sounds so desperate. But I don't think her calling me to get around confronting you is helping, either. I asked her if she was planning on making it a regular thing, to call India every day, so she could look forward to it. She said she didn't know." He pulled the nipple from India's mouth to make sure she was still breathing and kissed her brow, then had her latch on again. India's eyes didn't leave his face. "I admit I let her talk to India on the phone," he said. "I just couldn't deny her access to her own child. But I told her that she needs to talk to you about it, that you guys need to set up a schedule, that I wouldn't do this again. Now I wonder if that was the wise thing to do."

"You dealt better with that than I would have," Chris admitted, feeding another bit to Tom.

"What are we going to do?"

"Did she post anything to the board? I haven't had a message or mail by her. I checked all accounts for news on the way back."

"I didn't check, I was too busy consoling India."

"That won't go down," Chris said. "It can't be that she calls out of the blue and upsets everything."

"Didn't you call every day when they were off in Spain?"

" _Every day,_ " Chris pointed out. "Several times a day sometimes. I'm not sure India even knew I was gone. This is different; Elsa hasn't talked to her in weeks and doesn't know when she'll call next, apparently." He exhaled. "Last thing I want to do tonight is talk to her, really." He sighed.

They ate quietly for a moment. Chris almost saw his evening with Tom go down the drain over this, and that filled him with quiet despair. He gave Tom a smile.

"Do you want my opinion?" Tom asked carefully.

"Of course." Chris cut another sandwich to size and pushed it onto Tom's plate.

"Chris, she sounded desperate and really torn between thinking she needed to stay away, and not be able to, because she really misses India," Tom said thoughtfully. "I think if we kind of... pretend we're the only ones who know what's right for the baby, and try to shield her from her mother... that's not a good thing. Elsa is her mum and should be with her."

"We agree on that," Chris said.

"The question is just how."

"And the problem is that either one of us needs to be present when they talk," Chris pointed out.

"Miss Rose?"

"No." Chris shook his head. "Each time India thinks she sees her mother or actually talks to her on the phone, I mean... you've been there every time and she's been sad and clingy for the rest of the day. To leave her alone with this doesn't feel right. I know she loves Miss Rose, but she's not us."

They looked at each other. Tom sighed. "Making time to let India and Elsa chat every evening is going to take even more time away from us," he said. "I'm about scheduled out. There needs to be a moment when the day is over and it's just the three of us."

Chris nodded. "I feel the same way."

"What about right before we leave the set, in daycare?" Tom proposed. "Or during lunch hour? Then there is a clean cut between the official part of the day, and the three of us relaxing together."

"Who knows how much time she has, being on a shoot, herself."

"We could send her a short video of India every day she can't call."

"That's a lot of work we do for someone who hasn't shown up for her daughter in three weeks," Chris pointed out.

"Yeah, but what's the alternative? Not giving India back when Elsa is finished with her shoot?"

"We're not giving anything or anyone 'back'," Chris pointed out clearly. "We all care for her, all three of us together."

"Do you feel comfortable giving India to Elsa right now?" Tom asked. "Really?"

"No." Chris rubbed his nose.

"Let's give her a chance to ease into it," Tom said. "For India's sake."

  
* * *

 

Chris took India for her burp, so Tom could finish his meal, and after a moment of protest, it was as if she recognized him and then cuddled as intensely with her father as she had with Tom before. They exchanged worried looks over India's head; if this was what talking to Elsa once resulted in, then maybe they had to think of a different long-term solution.

The baby was in better spirits later, though, possibly because the medication they were still giving her in the evenings for her teething pains had started to kick in. There was the slightest tip of a sharp tiny tooth when you felt along her gums, which elicited excited looks from both men.

Chris settled on the play rug with the baby on top of him, while Tom had the laptop open to India's online message board. He quickly filled in what India had been up to today, and put: "Mommy called!!!" in the appropriate space on the calendar. He also mentioned that India had been quiet and snugly after, and added the triumphant appearance of her first tooth.

"So," he said. "And now?"

Chris exhaled and closed his eyes. "I have another appointment with Michael on Thursday so I can have Friday off to spend with you," he said. "We could try having me talk with Elsa and India tomorrow, and you on Thursday?" He opened one eye to see what Tom thought.

"Possible," Tom said.

"Friday, possibly at lunch. I want you to myself in the evening."

"Are you really." Tom raised both brows at him, then laughed. "Okay."

"Or do you have any other commitments until Christmas? At the weekends, I mean?"

"None scheduled," Tom reported. He looked at Chris, then took his laptop and walked over to where they were lying on the rug. A moment later, he was lying in his arm, his head propped up against his shoulder. "Better."

"Is it?" Chris smiled and pulled him closer, kissing his temple. "Let's wrap this up quickly. I want to spend some time getting lost in your eyes."

Tom gave him a desperate look. "Not helping."

"Not meant to." Chris caressed his upper arm with his fingertips. "Just want to be with you."

"Therapy was good, then?" Tom asked.

"I always want to be with you, so that's not an indicator," Chris laughed. "But yes, therapy was good. Tough, but good."

Tom put one hand on his thigh, rubbing it slightly, sending a jolt of electricity through Chris. They stared at one another. Chris licked his lips, feeling himself react, which was really, really inappropriate with India still propped up on his tummy. Still, Chris reached out for his lover, and they kissed, a definite promise of things to come.

"Not sure..." Tom croaked, then cleared his throat. "Not sure I can type like this."

Chris let a second, at least as inappropriate kiss follow. "Good."

India squawked, feeling abandoned.

They parted, both laughing self-consciously.

"You wanted me to type?" Tom asked.

"Let's put a message on the message board," Chris suggested. "Then it's less personal." He had a really hard time concentrating by now, but in about fifteen minutes, they had composed a message.

 _Hi Elsa_ , it read, under the subject of **Your Call Earlier Tonight**.

_Tom told me that you have called to talk to India. We're both concerned because she's been withdrawn and sad later, but we want you to have contact with her, and India to have contact with you. Here's what we can offer right now: I can be there when you talk to her tomorrow, Tom will be there if you want to talk to her on Thursday. It'll be me again on Friday. We're putting the dates and times on the calendar. These are the dates we can make on short notice; we're both back on set all day. If you need different times next week, let us know._

_We want you in India's life and we want India in your life. If you are concerned about any of this, I'm happy to sit in on a session with Doctor Casey so we can figure it out with a neutral person to mediate between us._

_Please let us know if you're able to attend any or all of these dates this week and then we'll take it from there._

_I hope this finds you well,_

_Chris_


	12. Secondary Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris finds that not all things are as they appear to be.

Aware that Tom's alone time had been severely shortened into nominal nonexistence by Elsa's call and the following crisis management, Chris took India for a bath not much later. He'd showered earlier on the set to get rid of the last traces of make-up before therapy, so he just sat by her side and watched her splashing about gleefully, letting the day settle around him. With it came the exhaustion and the slump following any adrenaline rush, of which he'd had two this evening alone.

He almost regretted having reacted so quickly and so positively to Elsa's attempt to circumvent him. She was very lucky that Tom kept arguing in her favor – or rather, in India's. The thought made him chuckle dryly. He kept arguing, in theory, that leaving her and India had been a horrible thing to do; but those past six weeks and the new life with Tom let his previous relationship fade away quickly. Added to that was India's presence here, and not that much had changed for him. He had his child, he had his new relationship. Elsa, as she sat in Romania, working, had really nothing left.

Ruefully, he snapped a quick picture of India playing in the tub, and another of her wrapped in her baby towel as she sat on the changing table, peeking out cheerfully from under the hood.

 _Your daughter is fine_ , he wanted to tell Elsa. _Don't worry. She'll still be here when you come back._

Life sucked when you couldn't show compassion with someone because that would hurt them all over again. He was caught in limbo where every move he made towards Elsa was the wrong move if she hadn't initiated it. Maybe that was making it so hard. The rejection went both ways.

He toweled India dry and, only in her diaper, wrapped her into a fresh, warm one. Tom was lying on the sofa, nose still in his laptop, when he came in.

"I fixed her bottle," Tom said absentmindedly, "when I just brewed some tea."

Chris ruffled through his lover's hair, getting the expected: "Hey!" and a swat in his direction.

He blew him a kiss as he walked by, getting the bottle, then took India up the stairs. Once in her bedroom, he stripped out of his cardigan and shirt, and India out of her towel, and settled her against his naked chest, both of them wrapped into a warm blanket.

They'd done that a lot when she'd been little, and it still worked when she was upset now. His heartbeat under her ear helped her feel safe, and she sucked soulfully on her bottle, wrapped up in their closeness.

Unfortunately, he roused her again somewhat when he had to dress her after all, but he had no problem just rocking her for a long while after, lost in thought, until her eyelids drooped and she finally fell asleep. Even after that, he just kept on rocking with her, lulled by the repetitive motion and the restful silence.

It was half past nine by the time he came back to the living room. Tom had put his laptop aside some time earlier and was lying on the sofa, his eyes closed.

Chris squatted by his side, brushing his thumb over his forehead. "Hey," he said softly. "Want to just go to bed?"

Tom opened his eyes and shook his head. He yawned and stretched, then sat up, patting his side. "Come sit with me."

Chris plopped onto the sofa by Tom's side, and had his lover immediately lean against him, lacing their fingers.

"You okay, babe?" Chris asked.

Tom gave him a slightly despondent look. "You mean apart from the fact that the day is basically gone, and this is the first quiet moment we have?"

"Apart from that?" He took Tom's hand in his own and rubbed it softly between his palms.

"It's a lot again," Tom said.

"Yeah. It is." Chris slung his arm around Tom's shoulder and pulled him close, pressing a kiss to this temple. Tom's hand wrapped around his thigh.

"Tell me about therapy," Tom said wistfully.

"Hm?"

"We haven't exchanged a single personal word today," Tom said. "Just you and me."

"Hey." Chris wanted to soothe him, but Tom twisted his head away.

"Just tell me?" He looked pleadingly at him. "Just ten minutes of adult conversation between the person who is most important to me right now, and me. At the end of a really busy, and at the end very overwhelming day."

Chris didn't say anything, he just looked at Tom. At his love, who had fought on his behalf so valiantly again today, and shouldered more than his share, again. They were both at the end of what they could take for this day, and getting into an argument was the last thing he wanted to saddle them with, as well.

"How about," he said quietly. "You go home early tomorrow. I'll stay with India until that thing with Elsa is over. Then we'll talk briefly how it went, and then we'll have dinner and that'll be our sign that the rest of the evening is ours. No phones, no nothing, just us."

"I need you now."

"I know, baby." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I can't just make it all magically disappear. But I really can't."

Tom pulled his knees up in reaction and wrapped his arms around them, turning a little away from Chris.

Chris couldn't do anything but see what would happen. "Tell me what's going on," he said. "Talk to me about you."

Tom shot him a quick look. His jaw was working as he was trying to figure out what to say. "It bothers me," he finally burst out. "That... that the safe haven that we've been having seems to... it's like life's come in and it's not going to leave." Once he'd started talking, his sentences kept coming. "It was like... when we started, whatever came from outside, it stayed outside, and... now... we..." He blew out a breath. "Chris, _we_ create the problems for each other, and... and I'm lost! I don't know what to do. It was all okay... it was manageable... when at the end of the day, it was you and me. And now... now it's like everything's out of whack between us, and then life _on top of it_ , and there is nothing I can do!"

For a moment, Chris wanted to laugh and to cry at the same time. At himself, for believing that Sunday had come and gone without actual consequences for their relationship, for them. For believing – he really hadn't, he knew that – that Tom lying on top of him for a whole day, and them then talking about possible marriage in the far future, would make everything okay. All kinds of automatic responses shot through his brain: Blaming himself, promising he would handle it. Desperately trying to fix everything so Tom didn't have to worry, so he wouldn't lose him. Trying to hurt himself for being so stupid, for hurting Tom.

"You want to know about therapy," Chris said.

Tom's head shot up.

"I go so I get all of this figured out," Chris said. "Because these are the things that I'm struggling with. Who this new person is and who he wants to be in the future, with you, with India, with Elsa, with the rest of my family, with the world. I go there so I can lay a foundation, a really good one, for our future together. I go there to sort out the mess that is me. I go there to be able to recognize what I feel, and what I want. Each time I go there, be it Dr. Casey or Michael, the recurrent theme is you. How much I love you, how you are the best thing that's ever happened to me. How lucky I am to have found you. How I'm now reshaping the rest of my life so it'll be suitable to be lived _with you_." He pried one of Tom's hands off his shins. "Tom, I'm sorry I'm such a mess at the moment and the Chris that started this with you has made space for someone who's.... who doesn't have all the answers. Who doesn't always have it figured out, or pretends to. I am working on it, I promise I am. But it'll take time until I'm there."

"But it's so much easier when you're the rock," Tom lamented. "When I can just look up to you and you'll say it's all worth it, and of course we'll pull through. When I can just lean on you when it's getting tough, or hide with you until it's over."

Chris blew out a breath and pressed a kiss on the back of Tom's hand. "Yeah." He rested his cheek on Tom's hand. He didn't know what else to say, and he was too exhausted to work himself into a frenzy of _What if he leaves me now?_ or _Was everything I said today about our relationship a lie?_

They stayed like this, and then he felt Tom's hands in his hair, and his lips against his head. Tom pulled him into an embrace and that's how they sat like two lost children, holding and clinging to each other.

"We work each other so open," Tom said. "It's hard to bear when everyone else just carries on like normal."

"But I want this," Chris said. "I want to be this vulnerable with you."

"And I want to be this vulnerable with you," Tom said. "But when you're waiting all day for a chance for it, it just wears you down."

"Yeah." Chris kissed his hand again. "It does." It dawned on him that making love would not be in the cards tonight, either. As Michael said, it was a sign of trust, and Tom... Tom was too doubtful, too shocked, too shaken. Chris had the growing suspicion that while he might really need more time to figure things out, time had already run out for Tom. His back was already against the wall. "I don't know if it helps, but I'm here now," Chris said. "For whatever you want to talk about or do."

"We need to be in bed, sleeping," Tom said tonelessly. "Another early call tomorrow. Another long day."

"We're on call later tomorrow because I don't need to go to therapy," Chris said. "Six instead of five."

"Ugh." They had to have six hours of sleep or the workload was simply not bearable.

"Tom." He knew he had no arguments. He'd been floating on how pleasant the day had been; he'd been spinning around his therapy, he'd left Tom more or less to solve the problem with Elsa because he didn’t want to call her and face the situation personally. He had not spent one moment of this day thinking about what he'd promised Tom yesterday he would do: Finding solutions that made it more bearable for Tom, _now_ , not some time in the mythical future. There was the one huge difference in being with a man that he had so far figured out: Your bullshit got called.

Every time.

“I don’t know what to do any more,” Tom said. “I’ve tried suggesting things we can do together. I’ve tried suggesting something that I thought we’d feel both comfortable with. But that has backfired so royally…” He shook his head, quite obviously in pain.

“I’ve boxed you in.” Chris slumped against the back of the sofa. “I boxed us in.”

“It’s not just that. There’s just no room to move, in no direction! We can’t be public anywhere because of Elsa. We’re out and about together all day but we can’t even hold hands or touch or even slightly let on that we’re more than friends. It feels to me…” He exhaled. “It feels to me like we’re bending in all kinds of directions to spare other people’s feelings, but when it comes to our own…”

“To yours,” Chris acknowledged quietly.

“...when it comes to our own, there’s never space enough for fear we’re treading on someone’s toes.” He ran a desperate hand through his hair. “And I don’t know how long I can keep that up. I don’t want to keep it up any more. _I’m done keeping up._ ”

The cyclical nature of their argument, the fact that they’d had it before many times, in different permutations, suggested strongly to Chris that it wouldn’t go away until they’d solved it.

“Do you want to come out on set?” Chris asked.

“The teasing would be endless. Kevin would haul our asses faster than we could say ‘by the way’.”

“Maybe,” Chris said slowly, “We have to start getting used to the thought that we won’t be able to keep our goody-two-shoes images forever.”

“Other people do,” Tom said. “I don’t think it’s impossible.”

“Other people haven’t left their wife and kid to be with a man,” Chris pointed out.

Tom immediately got up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Tom, stop.”

“I’m not your dirty secret! What we do is not that scandalous! We fell in love, you’re talking to me about marriage. Which part of that spells promiscuous or dishonest or… I don’t know, any of that? You keep dragging up that point as if it was a black mark forever. I work my ass off to make a home for you and India; I care for both of you, for India, no questions asked. Where is the shame in that? I’m done feeling guilty for loving you! I’m done feeling guilty that Elsa couldn’t give you what you needed, but I can!” Tom was trembling as he shifted his weight. “And you know what? The worst of it is that you’re dragging it into our relationship. The people that reacted the worst are _my_ family. Yours have been nothing but sunshine and sweetness. But you’re the one who keeps reiterating arguments that no one has raised even once!”

“Your family is not excited about me being married.”

“My family has a stick up their collective asses,” Tom said forcefully. “They have a problem with my father that they can’t resolve there and try to take out on me, instead, because I’m sweet and kind and won’t do anything to them. It has nothing to do with us.”

Chris was stunned.

“Okay,” Tom said. “Enough. Where’s my phone.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Call someone.” Tom found his phone and speed-dialed a number. He eyed his grandfather’s clock. “Should be okay to call L.A.”

“L.A.?” Chris squeaked.

Tom held up a hand. “Ah. Hi Robert! It’s Tom. How are you?” He pressed a button on his phone, making the conversation audible for Chris.

“Great, getting ready to leave with the baby and the wife!” The distinctly recognizable voice of their _Avengers_ co-star, Robert Downey Jr., came across loud and clear. “How are you? Haven’t talked in ages! Are you in L.A.? Should we meet?”

“No, we’re doing _Thor 2_ in London at the moment,” Tom said. “But Chris and I will be in L.A. over Christmas.”

“Swell! Call my people and set up a date,” Robert said. “How is the hunky one?”

“He’s right here, looking shocked that I called you,” Tom said, but he had to smile. “How’s the wife and baby?”

“Couldn’t be better! So what’s up?”

“Robert, if I told you that Chris and I are together now, what would be your reaction?”

“Congratulations…?” Robert tried. “About time?”

“Bob, we need help.”

“Oh. So you’re serious. Hang on.” They heard him say a few words to his wife and then a door closing. “Go.”

“We need a plan,” Tom said. “We need someone to spin this for us.”

“And you thought of me first because I’m the dirtiest person you know?”

“That’s not what I…”

They heard Robert giggle at the other end. “Of course I am,” he said, sounding proud of himself. “You called the right man. What do you need?”

“Chris is looking into divorcing Elsa,” Tom said.

“Because of you? Well done.”

“Robert.” Chris said in a warning tone.

“Ah, there you are.”

“Yes, I’m not a figment of Tom’s imagination.”

“I hadn’t even thought that far,” Robert said appreciatively. “Where were we?”

“Chris is concerned that it’ll look really bad. He’s effectively left them to be with me.”

“That wouldn’t be the first time,” Robert said. “I know a lot of people where that happened.”

“We don’t want Elsa to look duped or foolish,” Tom said. “Chris is worried about his public image.”

“Well ya can’t have ya cake and eat it, too,” Robert said reasonably. “If that’s what happened, that’s what happened. You’ve got to own it, or the press will own you. There’s no way to know what she’s gonna do. Does she have the baby?”

“No, India’s with us at the moment. Elsa left to shoot a movie in Romania, and to get her head clear.”

“Listen,” Robert said. “I don’t need the details here. But. There’s always two sides to the coin. She may be shocked and all now, but when it comes down to money, anything is game. Have your own chickens in the coop, then worry about her. I know you’re both decent fellows, but don’t let anyone pull the wool over your eyes. I’ve met Elsa, no offense. This is not gonna last. Get a lawyer, STAT. Write everything down. Everything. Maybe you’ll need it, maybe you won’t. I’ll give Ted a call. He single-handedly got me out of the dump back when and back into everyone’s good graces. He’s the reason I am where I am now. Hire him or don’t, but listen to him once. He may not be the cheapest gig on the block, but he’s worth every penny. If he can make an imprisoned drug addict look like a shiny new hero, he’ll get you two to look like white-winged lovebirds that no one can resist.” He paused. “Actually, that’s what I’m picturing right now.”

“Robert, that would be immensely helpful,” Tom said appreciatively. “Please have him contact me. Be free to give him my number. He can call any time.”

“Will do,” Robert said. “Goodness. What exciting news. And the morning started so dull.”

“It stays on the QT for now,” Tom warned.

Robert laughed. “You have no idea how good the QT works in Hollywood,” he said. “When you guys come over, I’ll introduce you to a few people.”

“Brilliant,” Tom said. “That would be great.”

“Is it any good, though?” Robert asked. “Massive hammer and all?”

Tom had expected him to make a jab at some point. This was way more benign than he had anticipated.

“Any time I don’t want to bash his head in, it’s great,” Tom said. He decided to give Robert one more nugget as a thank you. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me, actually.”

Robert chuckled appreciatively. “Well, I’m gonna let you lovebirds go,” he said. “Thanks for the call.”

“Thank you, honestly. From the bottom of our hearts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Robert said good-naturedly. “I see you guys around.” And he hung up.

Tom turned off his phone and put it on the table. He was still standing, his hands at his hips, chewing his lower lip.

“Are you done now?” Chris asked, not quite sure when it was his turn to speak again.

“Not quite.” Tom held up one finger, asking for a moment. “Okay, here it is.” He exhaled and lifted his eyes to Chris’. Then sat down in front of him. After a moment, he even took his hand. “Listen,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re doing in therapy. You like going, and you tell me it’s good for you. That’s good enough for me. But.” He grimaced. “I don’t know what Michael does, and what you talk about, but your _I left my wife and child_ , it’s got to stop.”

“What?” Chris asked meekly, more in surprise than as an actual question.

“You didn’t leave your child. India’s safe and sound with us. We do everything for her. Everything. By the time Christmas rolls around, we will have had her longer than Elsa since the two of you broke up. That’s got to count for something. You love her, you care about her, you want her around, you keep telling me that you want to raise her, so… no more you left your child. You didn’t.”

“Okay.” Chris’ voice sounded unnaturally high.

“You left your wife. You did. You left her because you fell in love with someone else. Me. Since then, I don’t know how many times you’ve sworn I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, or how many times you’ve told me that you keep talking to your counselors about me. And then you keep coming back and negating everything by saying that leaving her makes you a horrible person and you can’t stand it. It feels like a slap in the face every time you say that.”

“I didn’t know that.” Chris had no idea his voice could sound that hollow.

“And one last, very last thing. Stop living in the past, where you’re this horrid, horrid creature who does unspeakable things. Stop living in some mythical future where everything’s suddenly coming up roses. India and I, we are here now. We want your love and attention now. We need you, now. We want to walk this road with you, now, even if it’s bumpy and difficult. But it’s real, and we get to be together on it, we get to share it with each other. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Chris' head felt completely hollow. He couldn't understand what had just happened; none of it. The way he had imagined things to be and the evening to go was so vastly different from how they had turned out, his ears were still flat against his head from the speed of events alone.

"Did you just out us towards Iron Man?" he asked, the only functional thing he could think of asking.

"Yeah." Suddenly, Tom blushed and hid his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think... I was so damn upset."

"He didn't seem particularly fazed."

"Not at all, more like."

Chris blinked. "I don't know where my mojo's gone," he said tonelessly. "I don't know this person I am right now. It fucking scares me."

"I don't know what to tell you any more," Tom said. "I can see where you're struggling but I'm so at the end of my tether that..."

"Yeah."

"Chris?"

"Hm?"

"Whatever you're fearing, it's not happening right now," Tom said. "Because if it did, you'd know that I'm here to help. You'd notice that people don't react the way you expect them to. You'd at least give things a chance to surprise you pleasantly, or you'd face up to what doesn't work."

"I think it's all catching up with me now," Chris said, knowing how hollow it sounded. "But you're right, I... it doesn't change that I've chosen this, and would choose it again over and over again. It doesn't excuse that I first dragged you into this and now I leave you to deal with it on your own."

"I wasn't dragged anywhere," Tom said softly. "I was waiting for you to ask me to follow, Chris. Remember? I was waiting for you to notice me. And I couldn't believe it when you actually did."

"And then you _really_ got to know me," Chris made. "Brrr."

"I would say that I do believe in you, but sometimes I feel you just need a good kick up your backside," Tom said dryly. "All that self-pity is so, so unbecoming."

"Heh heh heh, yeah." He let himself fall over, his head landing in Tom's lap, his limbs curled up like a puppy's. He reached up, and pulled Tom into a kiss, relieved when he let it happen, surprised by the playful gentleness between them.

"They have a word for that in German. _Nabelschau._ Contemplating one's navel," Tom said, rubbing Chris' sternum. "How much lint do you think you can ruminate on in there?"

"Want to check?" Chris asked.

Tom chuckled warmly and leaned over him for another kiss. "Why don't you tell me what you can find?"

He realized he wasn't going to get out of this one. He also realized how intensely uncomfortable he felt, as if he had ants crawling under his skin, trying to keep him away from something he wasn't supposed to touch. But he also recognized that Tom was trying to understand, trying to meet him where he was. He held Tom's hand and smoothed his cheek into it, loving that Tom ran his other hand through his hair at the same time.

"Michael's trying really hard," he said, his voice rough. "He says he wants to know what happened to me when I was younger that makes it so hard for me to accept happiness now."

"He and I both." Tom brushed his thumb over his forehead.

"Each time he gets near it, I get agitated. I can't sit still. I can't bear talking about it."

"You keep going back."

"Like an idiot, I keep going back."

"You say it helps."

"It does." Chris opened his eyes to look at Tom, the beloved features of his face. "I know I need to figure it out so I can get unstuck. I know whatever it is is going to be scared shitless by that hunk of a therapist who can quite likely kill everything in the vicinity within two seconds and not even break a sweat. There shouldn't be anything to be afraid of."

"Do you have any idea of what it could be?" Tom asked quietly.

Chris shook his head. "Michael's having the hardest time getting me to talk about how I feel or what I need instead of bringing everyone else's problems with me for him to solve. He's pretty busy just rounding that up for starters. Probably a good way to avoid dealing with your own problems; trying to solve... everyone else's." There had been the tiniest blip of recognition, but it had been gone just as fast.

"I'm trying to help you solve yours."

"Probably why I'm being such an ass about it," Chris said wryly. "It's not your fault, baby."

" _And_ trying to make me feel better about it," Tom pointed out. "Ts ts ts."

But Chris got another kiss for his troubles, so he felt it was fair.

"Do you think..." Tom spun his thoughts, "that when you get so angry with yourself when you've hurt someone, does that have anything to do with it?"

"I don't know," Chris said, frustrated. "I don't know."

He just knew that his anger attacks transported him to a different way of feeling; he was no longer helpless, he was doing something, even if it meant destroying it, or himself.

Again, there was a blip of recognition, but it felt very uncomfortable, as if something inside of him warned him to stay the hell away. He was probably really close, he thought.

"I can feel your heart beat a mile a minute," Tom said quietly. "Do you want to stop talking about this?"

"I think I better," Chris said. "I'm sorry, I know you expected something else..."

"I didn't expect anything," Tom said. "I just wanted to know what's going on with you. Okay?"

"Yeah." But it left him shaken and quiet.

 

* * *

 

They curled up in bed and Tom held him, again. Chris was glad of it, but it also left him restless. This was not what he wanted, this was not the role he wanted to play in Tom’s life, in their relationship. He was glad for the comfort, he was glad for the understanding. And at the same time, he knew he needed to move on, for his sake, for Tom’s sake, for the sake of their relationship.

He really needed to figure it out. Fast.


	13. Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris is making a last effort to make Tom understand. Tom is trying to recruit someone to help Chris.

The next morning rolled around and Chris felt nothing but raw.

They got up together and went through their morning routine, meeting in the kitchen for a small breakfast of coffee and cereal. When Tom got up to get them more coffee, Chris suddenly found himself hugging his middle and hanging on for dear life.

"Hey," Tom said, fortunately not pulling away. "What's going on?"

"Just hold me for a moment," Chris said.

Fortunately, he felt Tom's arms slide around his shoulders and hug his head to his chest, his agile fingers stroking his neck. "Are you okay?"

Chris shook his head.

Tom just held him tighter.

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess," Chris said. "I really really am."

"I know, honey."

"I'm sorry I can't keep up at the moment."

"I know." Tom sat back down with him on the bench, holding his hands. "What's going on?"

Now that they were at eye level, Chris' words got stuck in his throat again. He hid his face against Tom's shoulder.

"Honey, you're starting to worry me," Tom said, stroking his hair.

"I'm... I'm coming apart at the seams," Chris said. "I'm really scared."

"Do you want to stop?" Tom asked. "Therapy, I mean."

Chris shook his head.

"Okay." It was clear that wasn't what Tom wanted to hear.

"I need to do this," he said, wishing Tom would understand.

"Okay."

Again, they were in that bind. He wished he could just be little with Tom for a while, but Tom kept forcing him to live up to being his partner. It was so confusing and upsetting, Chris' emotions all over the place.

"I know... I know I can't make you understand," he finally choked out. "I wish I could."

"Honey..."

Chris shook his head and sat up, but he still couldn't look Tom in the eyes. "I keep saying why I'm doing this, and how much it means to me, but I think all you hear is I'm not here for you right now."

Tom stiffened for a moment, then finally released a breath. "Yeah."

Chris steeled himself. "I need you to support me," he said. "Or I can't... I need your support. Please. I need you to cut me some slack while I figure this out. I promise I'm working hard on it..." Tears sprang to his eyes. "I'm doing what I can but please... cut me some slack. I can't stand not knowing you don't have my back. I can't work through this while worrying that you might leave."

"I'm not leaving, Chris," Tom made clear. "I just miss you like crazy."

"But I'm right here," Chris said. "And I need you."

"And I need you," Tom said. "And apparently, we can't give each other what we need right now, and that in turn scares _me_." But he hugged him tightly, and rubbed his back.

Chris held on for dear life. "What are we going to do?" he asked.

"Take turns?" Tom asked. "Keep talking, honey. We need to keep talking. And sometimes, I know it's hard because you're in the middle of everything, but sometimes, I need you to listen to me, too, okay?"

"Take turns. Okay." He wasn't convinced. His insides were a vulnerable mess as he was beginning to open up to the idea that he actually had to tackle all the questions that Michael was throwing at him. "I want to know what keeps me from jumping into being happy with you," Chris said.

"I know, honey." Tom exhaled. "God I wish we both knew."

"But if that's what's at the end of all this... wouldn't that be worth it?"

"I'm impatient," Tom admitted, and he laughed softly, but his whole body posture relaxed. "I want my prize now." And then something wonderful happened, Tom kissed him.

Chris felt so relieved he wanted to cry. "I miss you, too," he said. "My Tom."

"You better believe it," Tom said, kissing him again. "Keep me close, honey. Talk to me. Keep me involved. Every now and then, make time to listen to me."

"I want that all the time," Chris said. "We have the greatest careers and the privilege of working together every day and here we are, cursing every bit of it."

"Yeah." Tom laughed softly. "You're right. That's pretty stupid."

Chris was incredibly relieved that he was doing something right. He dared to slip his hands under Tom's soft shirt and was rewarded with Tom scooting closer, doing the same to him. They kissed and touched, gently reconnecting, until Tom was pressed against his front and he held him tight, both of them getting a little short of breath.

"So gorgeous," Chris murmured, running his lips down Tom's neck with little kisses. "So beautiful."

"I love you, you idiot," Tom said. "I just want a chance to keep loving you, hm?"

That was basically all they wanted, a chance to be together freely, openly, without fear. How infuriating that the key to doing that didn't so much lie in the reaction of the rest of the world, but somewhere buried out of reach inside of Chris.

 

* * *

  
When they broke to get themselves ready, Tom locked the guest bathroom door behind him, took a seat on the toilet cover and dialed a number in Australia. A part of him hoped it would be the answer phone. The other part of him hoped it would be the number holder. Either way, his heart beat to high heaven.

Finally, someone picked up.

"Hello Tom," he heard Fiona's voice. "A very early good morning to you! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Chris needs help," it tumbled out of Tom. "Can you please give him a call?"

"Is he injured? What's wrong?" Fiona effortlessly switched into emergency mom mode.

"He's not injured," Tom said. "Sorry for scaring you. No, no. He's fine."

"Fine, or needs help?" she asked, an amused note in her voice.

"He... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called." It seemed fairly stupid right now. Chris knew what he was doing, he was set on his path, he had professional help.

"Tom," Fiona said patiently. "Start from the top. What's going on?"

"I don't have much time to talk," Tom said. "We're about to leave for the set. Can you just give Chris a call?"

"Not before I don't know what's going on," she insisted. "Do you have time to talk more later?"

"Unlikely," Tom said ruefully. "Full day of filming today, and you'll be asleep."

"Okay. Tell me what you can now," Fiona said. "Or I'll worry all day."

He hadn't planned on that. Tom drew his knees up and managed to fold his whole tall body on top of the toilet lid.

"Chris is in therapy," Tom said. "He's having a really hard time and I don't know that I can help. Can you please try to talk to him?"

"He's in therapy?" Fiona asked.

"You didn't know that? Shit," it burst out of Tom. "Sorry. Didn't mean to curse. Sorry."

"So he's in therapy," Fiona stated calmly. "Do you know why?"

"He just wants to figure stuff out," Tom obfuscated. "He kept going after Elsa left."

"Ah," Fiona said. "Figuring stuff out is usually why you go."

"Right." Tom released a breath of laughter. "I know. Sorry."

"So are you worried about him going?" Fiona asked.

"It's weird!" Tom said. "He's talking about all kinds of stuff there and... I don't know." He grew quiet. "It's changing things."

"Unfortunately, that's also a prominent side effect of someone going to therapy," Fiona said ruefully. "Actually, it's the whole point."

"It's freaking scary," Tom said. "I don't know what to do."

"Do you have someone to talk to?" Fiona asked.

"A therapist? No." Tom snorted.

"No, just a friend, a confidante, a family member...?"

"No." The moment he said it he realized how damn lonely this whole thing made him feel. "No one I feel close enough to talk to."

"Are you afraid the two of you are going to break up?" Fiona asked.

"No," Tom said.

"Why do you want me to give Chris a call?"

"Cause I can't help him," Tom said. "I really can't."

"And you think I can?"

"It's worth a try, isn't it?" He laughed humorlessly. "I'm just at the end of my wits."

"Can you tell me what worries you so much?"

Tom thought back to the previous night. "It's like living with a stranger," he said quietly.

"What does he say when you tell him that?"

"He says he's doing it for us. He says he wants our relationship to be on solid ground, so he needs to work through his issues now... I feel a little duped," he said, laughing ruefully. "Oh god, I should not talk to you about this."

"Well you did call me and I have time to listen," Fiona said. "You feel duped because...?"

"This is really embarrassing," Tom admitted. "I can't say this to his Mum!"

"I'll try not to listen?"

It made Tom laugh.

"Hm?"

"It all started so promising," Tom said. "Not that I'm disappointed, Chris is great. I'm definitely in this for the long run, Fiona."

"But...?"

"I miss the Chris I first got together with," Tom said. "Something fierce."

Fiona took a moment to answer.

"Are you still there?" Tom finally asked. "Hello? Did I say something wrong?"

"No." But Fiona's voice sounded a little soggy.

"What did I say?" Tom asked, alarmed.

"I don't think I can help Chris," Fiona said.

"Why? What... what did I just say?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"Chris has always been everyone's protector," Fiona said. "I haven't seen him as anything but... I can hardly remember since when."

"Yeah." Tom took heart. "It's actually what I miss most."

"Okay." She blew out a breath, obviously struggling for composure. "I know this must be scary. I've got to tell you, therapy usually is like that. One person realizes they keep hurting themselves by hitting the same wall over and over again, and they finally go into therapy to get help. If it's really bad, they've already done harm to themselves, or to people they love. Chris is responsible and does this now to protect the people he loves."

"Me," Tom said.

"Yeah." Her laugh still sounded like half a cry. "And the stupid thing is, therapy changes you and then you change your behavior towards other people, and that in turn changes the other people. And that sometimes works and sometimes doesn't."

"Sometimes doesn't?" Tom clung to his phone like a lifeline.

"Therapy sometimes means that you will find that who you become doesn't fit the lives of those you used to associate with any more. When that happens sometimes the other people will let you go. Or you'll decide to let them go."

"Like my parents," Tom said.

"You know why we're so happy you're with Chris, that you've found each other?" Fiona asked. "Because we've seen a side of Chris that we haven't seen in a very, very long time, and we both think it's wonderful. But neither his Dad or I could help him get there. Elsa couldn't, either. You did."

"Fuck," Tom said. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, Fiona, I don't know what's gotten into me this morning."

"So to me it sounds as if Chris is making steps to keep what he's found with you. Not just between the two of you, but with the rest of the world. And when you've hidden a part of you for so long, that part is very vulnerable and easy to hurt. And I think that's what making this so hard on both of you at the moment."

"You know he basically keeps telling me the same thing over and over again," Tom said. "And all I hear is... I don't know. I guess, _I don't have time for you right now because I'm so busy with this new important thing._ "

"Since you're the new important thing, that's kind of funny," Fiona said.

"Heh, yeah." He laughed ruefully. "I just want to fast-forward to where everything is great and we're out and things are good."

"You know the first thing you said to us when Chris outed the two of you?"

"Oh god, I can't remember. That morning is such a blur." Tom laughed. It wasn't a bad memory, to have that long run on a rainy, cold, dark November morning, after having made love with Chris so many times that his cock had felt like it wanted to go on a month-long strike. His insides in a turmoil, years of fear over possibly being gay shattering into tiny bits and pieces by the overwhelming joy and love he felt over the privilege of having Chris wanting to be with him. And then to come home and find Chris incredibly worried because he'd just left without saying anything, and his relief and expression of love when he'd come home and had assured him that yes, he'd always come back. He'd made a decision, and it was for Chris, and against fear, against his past.

"The first thing you said to us was, _I'm in. For better or for worse._ "

"Jesus Christ, I came out with wedding vows to my boyfriend's parents," Tom laughed fondly.

"Tom, when... if..." Fiona caught herself. "I'm fairly sure this is going to happen sooner or later, so whatever. _When_ this is going to happen down the line, I can tell you that we're going to be very happy to give Chris away to you," she said. "Because he chose you to do this with. Not us. Not Elsa. You."

"Huh." Tom blew out a long breath, staring unseeingly at a print of a piece of artwork he had hanging in his guest bathroom. He felt so overwhelmed, so unprepared for all of this. He'd expected delight and joy from being with Chris. He got all that, he knew he did. But the difficulties were at times overwhelming. "So when people in therapy change, the people around them change, as well?" he asked, not sure if he was too fond of that idea. "Or they're out of their lives?"

"Without glossing it over, that's what I've seen happen a million times," Fiona said ruefully. "It's that or the people in therapy try to resist change so they won't lose the people they love."

"Either way, someone gets hurt if they can't learn to go with the flow," Tom ruminated. He heard the connecting door to the living room open. "Hold on a second."

"Tom?" came Chris' voice from outside. "Miss Rose is going to be here soon, and Andrew just called that he's ten minutes away. Are your okay?"

"Aw. Shit. No." Tom said. "You'll have to stall Andrew. I need fifteen minutes, at least."

"I'll give him a quick call," Chris said. "Are you okay in there?"

"Yeah, yeah, will be right with you. Thanks."

But Chris hovered. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please go away, I'm embarrassed," Tom said laughingly.

"Oh. Okay. I'll get your stuff out."

"Cool. Super. I'll be right there, Chris." He waited for the living room door to close, then unmuted his phone. "I'm sorry, Chris nearly caught me," he explained quickly. "And I'll have to start to get going. We're already going to be late on set."

"Do you think you're going to be all right?" Fiona asked.

"I don't know yet," Tom said honestly. "But you gave me a lot to think about."

"I'm fairly sure sooner or later Chris will come to us and talk to us about this," Fiona said. "But we can't rush that. He'll want to confide in you first."

For just one hot moment he wanted to just ask her what had happened to Chris when he was little. Just ask her, get it over with. He knew it would be a huge breach of trust. Maybe she knew, maybe she didn't. Either way, the woman he'd got to know over the past three years had certainly not done or hidden anything intentionally when it came to raising Chris. Both she and Rick had – from all that Tom could see – done a spectacularly good job raising their three boys. The answer lay within Chris. And he realized with frightening clarity that the quickest way to get to that secret was if he was behind his lover 100%. If Chris had to worry about his support, his love, it would hold him back, would take his focus away from solving that particular riddle, would lengthen the time that they had to stay hidden even more. He wanted to be on the same page as Chris, wanted Chris to catch up to him so they could move forward together. And that would really only happen if Chris had a chance to figure out what was still wrong.

"Tom?"

"I'm sorry. You gave me a lot to think about," Tom said. "And true to being me, I've immediately started thinking."

"That's good?"

"It is, thank you so much, Fiona." He sighed. "I'm very sorry if I've worried or startled you, that wasn't my intention at all."

"Tom, after raising those three, there's little that startles or worries me; certainly nothing you could do," Fiona said. "I'm glad you called."

"Really?"

"Really." Her voice was full of warmth. "I know you need to go."

"Yeah. Should I give India a big hug and kiss from her grandma later?"

"Yes." The idea seemed to warm her heart. "Are you two still getting on well?"

"Yes, couldn't be better," Tom said. "She's just had her first tooth and I couldn't be prouder if I had grown it myself!"

Fiona laughed. "I'll let you go now," she said. "I'd appreciate the big hug and kiss to India. Send a picture when you can."

"I will. Thanks again. I owe you."

"I'll talk to you soon, Tom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short chapter but I didn't want to take away from its impact so I left it where it was.


	14. Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris finds that the support he's been asking for may not quite be what he imagined it to be.

Andrew was, surprisingly, ten minutes late, and they stood by the curb, shivering in their coats. Between wanting to be ready to jump into the car when he arrived, and other needs, Tom finally dragged Chris a bit away from the street and kissed him in the cover of the car port.

"What's that for?" Chris asked, his voice warm and loving.

"Because I wanted to," Tom said. "And because I don't get to do it for a while."

"Babe..."

"I want us to go to work in my car when we go together," Tom said. "It's another hour every day that we get to spend just us."

"Tom."

"I'm tired of knowing that we won't be able to exchange a private word for hours now, not to speak of touching or kissing," Tom said. "Give me that bit, please."

"How are we going to explain that to the company?" Chris asked.

"They can hardly refuse it."

"It looks suspicious, Tom."

Tom wrapped his arms around himself and looked Chris straight in the eye. "Wow, that hurts," he just said.

"Tom."

"Don't Tom me," he said in a warning tone. "Wanting support is one thing but being paranoid and hurtful is another."

"It doesn't feel okay," Chris said. "It puts too much attention on us."

"You go with Andrew then," Tom said, turning away. "I'm going back to get the keys and drive on my own."

"Tom, dammit!"

"Same difference." He had no idea what he would do if Chris would actually let him go. Actually take the car, most likely, and then cry all the way to work. But his play paid off, Chris caught up to him.

"Tom, stop! What's going on?!" Chris said forcefully. "Christ."

"Stop making me feel like you're ashamed of me," Tom said. "It feels rotten."

"You want too much."

"I drive you around all the time," Tom said. "What's the difference now?"

"I don't want to fight," Chris said. "Please let's stop fighting."

"Chris, I'm..." Tom exhaled. "I understand what you were saying this morning. But. _But._ We're not finished yet. We're still... we're still figuring this thing out, you and me. I'm not... You don't get to think..." He was breathing heavily. "You don't get to work on all these other things on the benefit of telling me to hold still until you're done." He drew himself to his full height. "You have my full support but I'm not going to be quiet until you're done."

Their eyes held, taking each other's measure. Behind Chris, Andrew drew up to the gate.

"Please come with me now," Chris pleaded. "I'm going to think of something, I swear."

After thinking a moment on it, Tom nodded. "Okay."

  


* * *

  


Tom took the passenger seat. Chris slammed the back seat door closed after he'd scooted in behind Tom. He was furious.

"Good morning to you, too," Andrew said. "I know I'm late, but..."

"Not your fault," Chris mumbled.

"You rang through so I went to get everyone coffee," Andrew explained, pointing to the tray at Tom's feet. "And then the cashier needed forever."

"Here." Tom handed Chris' cup back to him. "Thank you very much, Andrew. It's not your fault old poopy face back there got up on the wrong foot this morning." A knee to the back of his seat was his thanks. "Hey!"

"Don't take it out on the car!" Andrew warned. "You can do almost anything in here, but ruin the upholstery, and I'm going ballistic."

Seeing as he barely came up to Chris' clavicle, this should have been a facetious statement. The expression on his face said something else.

"I'm sorry," Chris said meekly. "And thank you for the coffee."

"Sheesh," Andrew said, shaking his head. "Thank god it's Wednesday?"

  


* * *

  


Tom hated every second of the drive. What he really wanted was to be in the back with Chris, cuddling, or at least not having to pretend they were just pals. The reality was, even if he'd been back there with Chris, they would still be in opposite corners, not being able to touch because god forbid, Andrew might see something.

He wasn't quite sure where his holy anger came from, just that something that Fiona had said had possibly bloomed in a completely different direction than she had intended.

So Chris had chosen him to do this with? Fine. It was as if suddenly, all the insecurity about his own role in this whole thing had come into clear focus. He'd been unsure about what he was supposed or allowed to do, worried not to spring any of the anxiety and insecurity that Chris displayed in abundance at the moment. But that was _not him_. He felt boxed in as he was; if he now started to tiptoe around Chris' sensibilities for the next three, four months, or however long it would take him to get to where he needed to go, he would suffocate. There was only so much stuffing of himself he could do for someone else's benefit. If Chris actually needed him, he needed Tom. He had a mother, a father and two perfectly fine brothers he could bother with this. He'd had a wife. He didn't go to any of them, Fiona was right. No. He was coming to him.

And if therapy made you change, well, two could play that game. Did he like having to be the grown-up in their relationship? Hell no. It had been nice to be coddled and cared for by Chris. Talking with Fiona about that first coming out, he suddenly remembered how uneasy he'd been in the beginning to suddenly inhabit a more passive role, being romanced by a man. He'd usually been the one doing the romancing, and... for some reason, possibly because Chris was so damn good at it, they'd kind of fallen into that rut.

He sipped his coffee, watching London's early morning lights drift by. Behind him, Chris shifted.

"I'm sorry," he heard Chris' voice close to his ear.

Tom shrugged. Sorry didn’t really solve anything. He sank deeper into his seat and asked Andrew if he could turn up the radio. A song by David Gray was on that he liked, and the slow rhythm helped him think.

"I really am," he heard Chris say against his neck.

"For what?" Tom finally said, turning his head around.

Chris sat back and in his eyes was an expression that was hard to bear. Abandonment. Disappointment. "Never mind."

Tom turned forward again, cradling his forehead in his hand.

"Lover's spat?" Andrew asked in a low voice, handing him a kleenex.

"Eh, what?" He was aware that Chris wouldn't be able to understand them while he was sitting in the back and the music was playing.

"Uh." Andrew turned into a roundabout, concentrating on the traffic for a moment. "Didn't mean anything by it. Forget I said anything."

"No, no. Say it again," Tom urged him.

"Just saying," Andrew shrugged. "When you've been a full-time driver as long as I've been you've seen about everything there is."

"Does anyone else think that?" Tom asked slowly, sucking at his latte.

"You guys are all right," Andrew said. "Doesn't matter to me. I'm not telling anyone if I shouldn't."

Tom chuckled sadly into the hand covering his face. "You're not serious," he said. "You know?"

Andrew snorted and clandestinely pointed a thumb towards the back seat. "He's got a telling face," he said.

"Oh my god." Tom couldn't stop chuckling. The irony was too much.

"Yeah?" Andrew gave him a quick, conspiratorial smile.

"Yes," Tom acknowledged his suspicion. "But please keep it to yourself for a little longer?"

"Sure thing," Andrew nodded. "Wouldn't have told anyway. None of my business after all."

"Thanks." Tom gave him a grateful smile and wondered what the hell he was supposed to tell Chris. His boyfriend would possibly think he'd just outed him, and not react very favorably. He sighed. Having to second-guess himself constantly was really starting to grate on him.

He took down the sun shade and checked for Chris in the make-up mirror. His boyfriend was glowering at him from the back seat, hurt and confused. His expression made Tom's earlier anger melt away in a dead second. He just couldn't stand seeing Chris so horribly distraught over something he'd done.

Tom turned down the music a bit so Chris could hear him, and reached back to touch his leg.

"Honey," he said. "Andrew knows. It's okay."

The momentary expression of sheer terror and suspicion told Tom everything he needed to know of what bad a place Chris was still in.

"He doesn't care," Tom said. "It's really okay."

"I really don't," Andrew said, giving Chris a thumbs up in the mirror. "Like I said, as long as you don't ruin the upholstery..."

"Oh my god." Tom laughed. He was quite sure they'd done that before, if not in this car. "Chris? Are you all right?"

Chris was still looking a good bit confused and overwhelmed.

"Hey," Tom said. "It's really okay, he already suspected. He's been driving you around for a while and you have an expressive face."

"My cousin is the same way," Andrew said. "I really don't mind."

Some of what they were saying must finally have got through to Chris. He leaned forward, his forehead against Tom's seat.

"Hey," Tom said, rubbing his leg. "Are we okay? I really didn't spill anything, I swear."

Chris didn't say anything, but Tom felt his right hand gently touch his neck, and the warm breath of his well-deep sigh brushing over his skin.

They drove in silence for the rest of the way.

  


* * *

  


This was not what he'd had in mind when he'd talked to Tom this morning. All he wanted was one place where he could just lay his head and rest, just one.

Right now, his head rested against the back of Tom's seat, and Tom held his right hand, and Chris would've given everything to have the rest of Tom in his arms as well.

He wouldn't be able to hold it together much longer, he knew. Wouldn't be able to pretend that Tom and he were just friends. Wouldn't be able to keep up the lies, the pretending. Wouldn't be able to act like nothing had happened. He was so tired of all of that, of having to put so much effort into holding up the illusion that nothing had changed. That he hadn't changed, that his old life wasn't over and done with.

He'd been so upset with Tom a moment ago and now he was just exhausted. It didn't really matter any more, all he wanted was peace and quiet. All the fight he kept putting up, and for what? Robert had been his usual irreverent self, completely unfazed by the news. He certainly hadn't seen any reason to worry about anything. Andrew didn't seem to care. Maybe not every person would cheer at the news. Who did at anything. It would be a big brouhaha for a little while and then it would die down and someone else was the scandal. He was tired of working himself into a frenzy, too exhausted to keep worrying.

He pressed Tom's hand, and Tom pressed his back. Maybe they weren't at the same speed at the moment, but they were definitely on the same track, in the same direction. Maybe Tom didn't want to join him in his hiding hole. But he also didn't leave him unprotected. Tom was forging the way while Chris couldn't. He found people who were safe to confide in, slowly building a support system for them. That was much better than just sit shaking with fear. So he, Chris, couldn't do it at the moment. But Tom could, and he did.

Chris lay his head against the back of Tom's seat and took one breath at a time. It was all he could do.

  


* * *

  


The day called for a mix between physical action and intense character work as Loki double and triple-crossed Thor and the Dark Elves on Svarthalfheim. Both men slipped into the familiar roles with a quiet intensity, thankful for a chance to get physical and get the tension out of their bodies. The dialogue helped get their heads free as they concentrated on nothing but their characters and their intricate relationship with each other.

Time passed by quickly, and it was soon time to break for lunch. Chris' PA, Tina, had let him know about an hour ago that India had arrived with Miss Rose, and he had help getting out of the heavy chest armor so he could visit with his daughter during the break He looked across the set towards Tom to see that he had already slipped out of his heavy leather coat and was just taking off his chaps and boots.

Knowing that his judgment was screwed at the moment, he waited for his lover to come strolling over when he was done.

"I'm going to go see India," Chris said. "Want to come along?"

"I was just headed that way," Tom said.

"That's really sweet," Paula, who was still working on Chris' armor, remarked. She and Chris had a rather tension-filled relationship since she'd suspected that he was sleeping around right after he'd broken up with Elsa. Kat's gossiping hadn't helped at all. Apparently, Tom was still in her favor, though.

Chris didn't say anything, waiting what Tom would do.

"Well, yeah." His lover blinked. "We both equally care for her at home."

"Really?" Paula laughed. "You do everything with her? Change her nappies and all that?"

"He does everything," Chris said gently. "Changing, burping, feeding, reading her to sleep."

"So what's left for you to do?" she asked, her voice challenging.

Chris looked at Tom.

"You know," Tom said casually. "Is there a point to your hostility? Because I don't appreciate it. Chris is a great father. If you have evidence to the contrary, out with it."

Challenged so openly, she just muttered under her breath as she loosened the last clasp and lifted the heavy armor off Chris' shoulders.

"I didn't hear you," Tom said, not letting her out of this one.

"I said there's talk," she said defensively.

"What talk?" Tom said. "Let's get it out or let's never mention it again. Chris is my best friend, he's busting his butt to do everything for his little girl. He is doing absolutely everything for her. I see it every day. What's your evidence?"

That was interesting. Chris just watched the woman visibly go through quite a few things she wanted to say but obviously decided that none of it was fit to come out of her mouth.

"There's talk there's another girl," she finally said defiantly.

"Even if there were, what's your point?" Tom said. "It says nothing about his ability as a father."

"It's not right," Paula said.

"What does that mean?" Tom asked.

"The baby should be with her mum."

"Not that it's any of your business, but her mum is working and can't take care of India right now. Are you telling me Elsa is a bad mother for leaving the baby with Chris?"

This was obviously leading in a direction that Paula had not anticipated.

"Because that would be incredibly shortsighted. Elsa has a career just like us. Just because she's a mother doesn't mean she can't pursue a career. If India's mum thinks her baby is safe with her own father, what exactly is your point?"

"Sheesh," Paula said. "Forget I said anything."

"Deal," Tom said. "Let's shake hands on it." He stretched his out.

Visibly confused, Paula took it and they shook.

"Done and do over?" Tom asked.

She finally smiled. "Okay."

"Good." He smiled back at her, then looked at Chris. "Ready to go?"

"Lead the way," Chris said.

  


* * *

  


They ambled towards the nursery, two tall men in their prime, wrapped in warm parkas against the December cold. Chris held the door for Tom when they arrived, and used him slipping in under his arm through the door for a quick sniff of his hair.

Tom gave him a smile over his shoulder and they headed for the small room where India, Miss Rose, and their lunches already waited.

"You have a good hour," Chris said after he'd accepted the delighted baby and Miss Rose had rattled down India's day so far. "Don't hurry back." He winked at her.

"Perfect. I'll be punctual," Miss Rose said. "I'm starved, though."

"We do leave food out, you know," Tom said, amused. "And it's not meant for the Disney squirrels."

Rose gave them both a quick grin and made her way out.

"She doesn't care much, either, does she?" Chris asked, rocking India on his arm.

"That we're together? Nah." Tom scooted to sit at the table and brandished his fork and knife. "Sorry you two, but I'm really hungry."

Chris wasn't quite ready to eat, yet. He bounced India on his arm, talking to her and tickling her, and basked in her pearly baby giggles. Knowing that doing so after lunch may have unforeseen consequences, he threw her in the air to her obvious delight, and swung her around until they were both breathless.

Sitting down at the table with her, he could see that Tom was watching them with an indulgent smile on his face.

"Hm?" Chris asked casually while taking the cover off his food. India immediately tried to dive for his plate, but he held her back and gave her her own to mess with.

"Just wondering how many of those you want to have in the long run?" Tom asked fondly. "One hanging on each bicep, I gather?"

"And two off my neck, one in front, one in the back," Chris said, liking the mental image. "I don't really care. Luke has three, that looks like a good number. But I don't mind four or five."

He took the time to wrestle a bib onto India's neck. She protested, already stuffing her face with the steamed veggies and chips they had ordered for her.

"We could each carry two. Four sounds like a good number," Tom acknowledged.

Chris gave him a smile. The idea of actually founding a family with Tom was still a little off; there were so many obstacles still to overcome on the way there. But the idea that Tom was actively thinking about it was really nice. "Boys or girls?" he asked.

"Let's have two each," Tom decided. "Two sets of twins."

"Who's staying home with them while the other has a career?" Chris wanted to know, one brow raised.

"Neither, we're doing it the Jolie-Pitt way, always on the road with our posse," Tom said. "Hey India, no. No potatoes in your ears, sweetie."

They ate in companionable silence, and when they were done, piled into a corner together, their long legs stretched out side by side, India straining from one lap to the other to be tickled and rocked, obviously delighted that they were there. The place was fairly quiet as everyone was having lunch, and Chris found himself giving in when Tom turned his head towards him in obvious intent, and kissed him back. There was always a chance of someone barging in unannounced, but right now, he needed that connection more than he was afraid of being caught.

They kissed gently, taking their time, and the longing to make love with Tom reasserted itself with quiet persistence. They ended with Tom's head against his shoulder, their hands entwined, just leaning against each other. Chris could clearly see the bulge in Tom's leather trousers, and it eased his mind to know that Tom still wanted him, too.

"I keep thinking," he finally said in a low voice. "That I've figured it out, that I've finally got to the point where I think nope, this must be it, I can't love this man more than I do right now." His thumb rubbed over the back of Tom's hand. "And then I sit here and realize, I was completely wrong."

"If you keep saying things like that, I'm going to lick the clothes off your body and have you right here," Tom murmured.

Chris chuckled quietly. "Mission accomplished, then."

"I have a way too active imagination." Tom sighed. "I can basically see myself undressing you with my teeth right now."

"Heh heh heh." Chris noticed no difference in the size of the impressive bulge. They'd have to do something about that before they had to get back to the set. He was not ready yet to get up and bring some distance between them for the sake of propriety, though. "Thanks for this morning," he said quietly.

"Hm?"

"For setting me straight. You were right."

"You and I both know I have absolutely no interest in setting you _straight_ ," Tom said. His hand twitched. "Especially not right now."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

"Good." Chris turned his head and kissed him again, this time with a little more heat.

Before long, the baby, who'd been sprawled over their legs on her belly, examining the shiny metal applications on Chris' costume trousers with an intensely concentrated expression on her face, took exemption to the fact that she wasn't the center of attention any more and started to complain.

"And you want four of those?" Tom asked, his voice betraying his feelings. "We'll never see each other naked again."

But Chris pulled him close and it felt wonderful when Tom's arms wrapped around him, too, and they held each other tight, finally on the same page again.

  


* * *

  


They ended up cuddling and kissing for most of their remaining lunch time. Tom loved having Chris' full attention, and basked in his touches, and he wasn't ashamed of his body reacting so visibly in favor of his lover. Maybe this was just a short intermission until the next crisis started. If so, he needed to make the most of it, and feeling the intense love he had for Chris rush through him was a heady experience, indeed.

He wanted to tell him how much he wanted to feel Chris' hands on him, and his lips against his skin, but the sheer thought was so arousing that he decided against it. They had not enough time to do anything about it, and he didn't want a desperate quickie somewhere. He wanted more.

His point was made when Chris' phone beeped to mark the ten-minute gap to Miss Rose coming back. The sound suddenly brought back their very first morning together, when Chris' phone had made that same sound, over and over again, to remind him that he needed to call Elsa.

Chris kissed him again and again as if he wanted to make up for lost time. Unfortunately, Tom felt the same way, so the phone had to beep another time to make them finally stop.

"That's no fun," Tom said in a low voice.

"No." Chris took the opportunity to fit in another kiss. "But we both need a moment to get ourselves presentable again."

"Yeah." Tom sighed.

"I'd much rather part with you like that," Chris said. "Than when we're upset with each other."

"That goes without saying," Tom said, finally scooting away a little. "Just... broken hearted about having to wait so long. It's not okay that loving each other always gets last place in our day."

"No, it's not." Chris sighed and placed his daughter on her play mat. He slowly got up, then wrenched Tom to his feet, as well. "That's a lovely boner, though, honey. I've been twitching to do something about it for the past thirty minutes."

Tom groaned. "Not helping!"

Chris smiled. "Not meant to."

"Let's interject some anti-boner sentiment right there," Tom said. "Have you checked if Elsa has answered our post from last night?"

Chris drew a grimace. "No."

"I can check if you want. If she wants to talk, you'll have to stay a little longer with India."

"Okay." Chris straightened out his costume and started cleaning up after them.

Tom called up the message board. There was a new message by Elsa. He read it and grimaced.

"What is it?"

"She only wants my spot tomorrow," Tom said. "She says, and I quote: 'I want to see how well I can handle this before I make another decision.'" His heart fell. It was bad enough to have to wait for Chris another hour because he was in therapy, and having to deal with that all over again. But to spend the time with Elsa talking to her baby, and the whole emotional turmoil that would entail was not something he was looking forward to. He'd offered it to help out, not to be the sole provider of the contact.

He realized Chris was watching him very carefully. He'd been watching him earlier, as well. Tom gave him a weak smile. "Well." He shrugged. "I guess it can't be helped."

Chris frowned, and then took out his phone. He dialed a number, patting the space beside him. Tom perched on a chair close to him, not sure what to expect.

"Ah. Hi Elsa, it's me."

Tom's eyes couldn't have been bigger.

"No, India is fine. I'm calling because of your message on the board," Chris said. "Yes, we just read it."

Chris didn't open the communication so Tom could listen in on what Elsa said, but he could hear her voice, and it sounded very upset.

"No, Elsa, you don't get to hang up right now," Chris said. He was friendly, but firm. "You're her mother. India needs you."

Another rush of upset words.

"Elsa, that isn't a solution. Tom offered to help out, not to be the only person to do this. There's a lot of things we need to talk about, too. You can't just hide out in Romania and pretend your daughter doesn't exist." He listened to what she said, and the sudden pain in his eyes told Tom that it had been something uncomfortable, possibly personal. "Fine. You can hate me. That's your prerogative, and you're probably right. But. You don't get to do this on India's back. She misses you fiercely." Another row of angry words. Chris visibly had to calm himself so he wouldn't yell back. "Listen. Elsa, just listen to what I say, just once." Apparently it worked. "I understand that you're upset. But contrary to what you believe, we are all struggling with this. We're all... desperate. No one is taking anything of this lightly. You're not the only one who hurts." He blew out a breath. "It is what it is and we need to learn to live with it. All of us. We've all had a hand in the situation as it is. Yes, you too. You chose to leave India with us. And we do what we can, but she needs her mother, too! You can't just pretend that you're not her mother any more." He listened to yet another diatribe, and Tom could virtually see him sink into himself whenever what she said hit a mark. He touched Chris' shoulder and shook his head. _It's not worth it_ , he mouthed. _We'll just keep her with us._

Chris' eyes bore into him, looking for clues how to handle the situation. He let Elsa exhaust her audible anger and waited until there was a break in her yelling.

"Okay," he finally said. "Just in case this isn't clear yet, Tom and I are offering you a chance to keep in contact with your daughter, to show that you still care. What you're doing right now could be interpreted as disinterest in your own child, and at a custody hearing, it could be laid out against you. Do you really want to lose custody of your daughter, Elsa? We're trying to help you, we're trying to help India. You need to snap out of it, this is not a game."

With growing alarm, Tom realized that Chris was trying to use his own methods on Elsa. But apparently, Chris' clear words had stopped her ranting.

"No, I'm not threatening you at all. We want you to be India's mom. India wants and needs you. We want you to be in her life. You've got to stop circling just around yourself. Apparently it's not working very well, either, from what you said." Chris' calming voice told Tom that Elsa was listening now. "I get that. But we need to get to a point where we can at least politely communicate in some way. Yeah." He listened. "No, I understand that. I'm going back to therapy tomorrow, myself. Just give us a bit of warning so we can see if we can fit it in, okay? Yes, this week's dates are still on offer, but you've got to talk with me, first, that's the only condition I have." He laughed. "No, being yelled at by me right now does not count."

There was a knock at the door and Miss Rose peeked through. Tom put his finger on his lips and mouthed _Just a moment we'll be right out_. She nodded and closed the door behind her again.

"Tom, Elsa wants to know how we want to do this," Chris said. Then, to the phone. "Yes, Tom is right here. We're at the set. Lunch break. We'll have to hurry back in a bit." He listened. "No, I can't put you through. India is in the room with us and she'll be completely excited when she hears your voice. But we don't have time to put you on right now, so she'll be devastated when she can't talk to you. That's just unfair to her."

Tom was flabbergasted when he realized that had been the sole reason why Chris hadn't put Elsa on speaker in the first place. And apparently, pointing that out was what had been needed to finally get through to Elsa.

"Yes, she was very sad last night," Chris said. "She needs lots of cuddles when she thinks she's seen you or you've talked to her on the phone. She misses you very much. And I think she knows you're not right around the corner. If we start doing this, it needs to be in a way that is reliable and relatable for her. Not once, then nothing. That's why we proposed dates every day. It puts a huge strain on our own schedules, but it would make a huge difference to India." He listened. "Yeah, it is." He sounded calm and centered now. "Listen, we've really got to go," he said. "Why don't you think about it, and talk about it with Dr. Casey on Friday, and then let us know what you want to do? And we'll wait until then until we start this."

It nearly broke Tom's heart to imagine himself in Elsa's place, so close, and yet so far away. But Chris was right, there needed to be rhyme and reason to how they were doing this, for their own sakes, and for India's sake – and in the end, even for Elsa's. They needed to be responsible and reliable for India, putting her needs first. It wasn't too much to ask for India's mother to adhere to the same principles, regardless of how she felt about them. They all had to get over themselves at times at the moment. Maybe this would help Elsa get out of her pit, too.

It was certainly worth a try.

  


* * *

  


“You realize I did this for completely egotistical reasons, right?” Chris asked Tom when they left the nursery.

“You are a star,” Tom said. “Chris, that was really something.”

“I want a day just with you. Two days. Three,” Chris said. “Not having to wait until the baby is asleep.”

“We’re going to miss her horridly,” Tom predicted.

“That goes without saying.” Chris sighed. “But right now, I miss you. Us. This.” They couldn’t even hold hands as long as they weren’t out. The separation really started to hurt as they made their way back to the stage. “Thanks for kicking my butt. I mean it.”

Tom laughed softly and shook his head. “I hate doing it.”

“I love you even more for it, then,” Chris insisted quietly. “Priorities. I need to remember where mine lie.”

“You never forget,” Tom said.

Chris gave him a quick smile. “I told Miss Rose not to let India sleep that long this afternoon,” he said. “And they’re going to play outside until it gets dark. I want her to be so tired tonight that she goes to sleep on her own by 8:30, latest.”

“You’re serious,” Tom gave him a quick look.

“You better believe it.” Chris’ pale blue eyes bore into him, not in the least shy about the meaning behind his words.

  


* * *

  


Chris made true on his words. When they were home, they had a quiet dinner together, and then he took the baby for a bath in the tub while Tom took a quick shower. Tom spent some time reading and mailing on the sofa while father and daughter cuddled and played, but his presence was very much requested by the baby for the night time bottle, and India fell asleep no five minutes into his reading of her bedtime story.

Tom put the book on the coffee table and cuddled up to Chris, wrapping his arm around his lover and their… his child.

“That’s not what I had in mind,” Chris chided gently.

“I know. But I love what we have with her,” Tom said. “Besides, she’s warm and cute and smells good.”

Chris chuckled. “I thought that was me,” he said.

“You, too, honey.” Tom kissed him on the lips, then felt Chris’ arm wrap around him and hold him. The day had been long and full of tension and challenges. Just being in this position at the end of it put tears in Tom’s eyes.

“I put you through so much,” Chris said quietly. “I’m done saying sorry, but you know I am, right?”

Tom nodded against his shoulder.

Chris kissed his brow. “I’m going to do better. I promise, Tom. I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Tom said. “We don’t have to talk.”

Chris rubbed his arm, holding him close, while Tom quietly cried into his shirt.

  


* * *

  


“Fast asleep,” Chris said when he tiptoed down the gallery steps half an hour later. “We really wore her out.”

“This is so awkward,” Tom laughed when Chris plopped down beside him.

“Come here.” Chris had him cuddle up again the way they did before. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“Um, maybe lengthwise, on the sofa?” Tom asked. He shouldn’t have worried. The mere prospect of lying alongside his lover was already giving him a nice buzz. Having Chris’ body pressed against his had an immediate effect on him. He hardly knew what to touch first, where to put his hands.

“Out of this.” Chris pulled off Tom’s shirt. “I promised myself I’d be patient but dammit.”

“Don’t be.” Tom enjoyed the feeling of Chris’ soft cotton top against his naked skin, his warm, solid body right under it. He ran his fingertips along the column of Chris’ muscled back and slung a leg over his hip.

“God.” Chris’ large hand cupped his ass and slid his hand along the back of his thigh. He kissed him, deeply, Tom clawing at his shirt. They tried to make it last, make the most of it, but they were so hungry for each other it was hard to hold back.

“Please, can you…” Tom’s voice was thick, and he had to swallow. “Your hand. Fingers. Thumb. Over my nipple. Rub. Please.”

Chris held him safely as he turned him further on his back for better access, and ran the fingers of his left hand over Tom’s nipple. He ducked his head and closed his lips around its twin, suckling gently.

Tom arched into the caress. “Teeth,” he hissed.

Chris did as requested, licking the nipple first, then clasped it gently in his teeth and let it slip through them. Tom cried out, music to Chris’ ears.

“More,” he croaked. “More, Chris.”

His fingertips were like spikes in Chris’ back when he repeated the move: _Suck._ Lick. _Grasp._ Slide.Tom arched off the sofa, against Chris, and he felt his blood starting to boil, his hunger for Tom acute, immanent, pressing. He felt himself starting to move against Tom, who clawed at him to get on top.

“ _Tom…_ ” His voice was thick with arousal, need. He reached down, aligning his cock with Tom’s, easy to feel through the soft, thin cotton of his bottoms. “ _Tom…_ ” Tom’s legs slung around his hips and he kissed him, oh-so-gently, as their hips began to move in a painfully slow beat.

The tension was delicious, the longing almost painful as they took their time moving against each other, sliding, stopping, kissing, fingers gently on each other’s skin, then a sudden grasp of Tom’s fingers around the flesh of his buttocks, a sharp inhale by both of them, release of tension, exhale, slide of lips on lips, breathing into each other, Tom’s hips rising, Chris’ hips answering, worshiping, longing, yearning for more.

Maddeningly, deliciously, they took their time to be together, until the longing became too much, too unbearable, Chris crying into the soft skin of Tom’s neck, little shouts of want, of need, of having to have.

They somehow managed to get out of their clothes and then got back into the same position, and Tom pulled Chris’ cock between his legs and moved into him, pressing his own against the prominent, rock hard muscles of Chris' stomach, getting a nice, hot rub from it.

“Yeah?” Chris rasped. “This?” He hardly recognized his own voice, he was so far gone, his whole world reduced to this, this. _This._

They moved as slowly as they could, straining wordlessly against each other, mouths open, eyes squeezed shut, hot flesh against skin rubbing, but not too much, wanting, but not too soon.

“Fuck,” Chris finally heard Tom whimper. “Oh fuck, Chris, so sorry, god, oh… fuck… _Chris_ …” And he came in his arms, every twitch and pump easily transmitted against the sweaty, sensitive skin he was pressed against.

Chris joined him, it only took two strokes, really, not even hard ones, just _press_ and _move_ and… his orgasm rolled over him like a tidal wave; for a moment he felt like being flung off his board while surfing, the wave submerging him, nothing but sunshine in clear blue water, lungs burning for air, but his heart breaking at the beauty and the strength of it, at the privilege of being part of something so heartbreakingly beautiful and yet so incredibly dangerous.

They sobbed and laugh-cried in each other’s arms, holding each other tight, trembling with aftershocks, until the heart in Tom’s chest that Chris was pressed against started to slow down and he was simply held, Tom’s fingers gently running through his hair.

The epitome of what his relationship with Tom could endure had been reached. However deep his pain, he had to stop indulging in it, now, had to start facing up to whatever held him down, had to claw his way back to the surface whatever it took. The time to be weighed down by his past was over.

He had too much to look forward to.


	15. Things Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is trying to fill his time while Chris is having another session at Michael's office.

Calling his sister in Delhi was still a strange experience for Tom. Having been close to Sannah when they were little, their differing ways of dealing with their parents' divorce had caused them to grow apart over time, with Sannah blaming Tom for being too nice and not having any backbone, because he wouldn't stand up to his father like she did.

She'd been delighted to hear that Tom had found Chris, but their first few talks after the big revelation had been kind of awkward. Sannah was a rebel at heart and had found it very entertaining that Tom's coming out had caused so much upheaval in their family. Meanwhile, Tom wished that everyone would just get along. It had taken Sannah quite a few calls to understand how truly dire Tom's situation within the family was at the moment; that things weren't blowing over once everyone had calmed down.

Today, she took Tom's news about them reacting very badly to the picture that Chris and Tom sent with a shaking head. "They're a little crazy at the moment," she had to admit. "Do you want me to talk to Evie again?"

"I know Rory tries," Tom said. "I mean, he sent me the picture and told me, in the middle of the night, no less. But I asked, and he said she hadn't changed her mind."

"I guess that means you won't be there at Christmas?" Sannah said, now alarmed. "Oh Tommy, no."

"Don't call me Tommy," he said habitually. "Let's just say Mum hasn't invited me, and after Fred's call, I highly doubt she will. I'd only come with Chris anyway, and that's exactly what she doesn't want. No, Chris and I are going to see his parents and brothers in L.A."

"Is Elsa coming? That would be awkward."

"I hope she will," Tom said. "Then we can take India along. I don't want to leave her in Europe with her mum while we're celebrating Christmas without her."

"You like the little tyke, don't you?" Sannah said fondly.

"Yeah." The "little tyke" was actually just playing in his lap. He'd been let off the set early while Chris stayed on, and had taken India with him with the understanding that it would be nicer for her to be home with him. Chris had left for therapy directly from the set about ten minutes ago, and Tom just couldn't stand being alone with his thoughts while he was away. At least he didn't have to talk with Elsa, but worrying about what was next after Chris came home didn't help, either. "It's hard not to, she's really lovely, Sannah."

"Don't hang your heart too much on her," Sannah cautioned.

"Why not?" He settled the baby on her play rug and lay down beside her, rattling a toy over her head. India was pretty mellow today and it was fun hanging out with her again now that her tooth had broken through.

"I'm sure Elsa will want her back."

"We're going to share custody with her," Tom said. "She's actually not much in India's life right now..." He sighed. "But that's really not something I want to talk about right now, to be honest."

"Are you going to do a Christmas party, though?" Sannah asked. "Please say yes! We're going to be in London early anyway. I'm dying to see you and Chris together, and to meet India!"

"Are you sure you want in the middle of this?" Tom cautioned.

She snorted. "Are you kidding me? I live for in the middle of this."

"Mum may uninvite you for Christmas."

"Tom, please."

"Oh no I forgot, it's just me who's done the unforgivable." He rolled his eyes at himself. He'd sworn not to indulge in feeling left out, but sometimes it was hard to suppress.

"Just come on Christmas Day, bring Chris, bring the baby, it'll be fine."

"Sannah, I'm not you," he said. "And I can't. I've made other plans now."

"So you already like your new family better than us," Sannah mock accused him.

"I'm gonna say yes if you don't stop!" Tom said, but he had to laugh.

"Think about the Christmas Party, though, will you?" she begged.

"I'll have to ask Chris what day we're leaving," Tom said. "I actually have no idea." He shook his head at himself. "Might be that we leave right after we're done filming on Friday. We have about a million things to do in L.A. and we can always sleep on the plane."

"Not with a baby," Sannah cautioned.

"India is used to flying, it'll be all right." He hoped. "Tell me what you've been up to."

They talked a little longer, but it got really late in Delhi, and they hung up after another twenty minutes. The talk left Tom restless, acutely feeling that while he was glad that he had a better relationship with both his father and Sannah since he'd come out to them, they could still not replace the tight, loving and supportive relationships he used to have with his mother and Evie.

There was still too much time left until Chris would be back. India seemed content that he was just there, and didn't demand his full attention at the moment. He hazarded a call to Luke.

They hadn't seen each other since Sunday, and since Tom didn't have any public appearances for the rest of the year, the contact had been sporadic. Tom wasn't ready to discuss a public coming out with Luke yet, and what Luke had assumed about Chris this past Sunday had left him with a vaguely wrong feeling that he couldn't quite put his finger on. But his friend was jovial enough when he picked up, and after exchanging a few pleasantries, Tom felt confident to jump right in with a request.

"I know it's short notice," he said. "But would you and Steve be available to babysit Friday or Saturday?" He hadn't even discussed this with Chris.

"Are you kidding me?" Luke asked excitedly.

"Not really," Tom said.

"Of course!"

"Which day is it going to be?" Tom asked.

"Probably Saturday. Hang on, I'll ask Steve." He was back soon with the news. "Yes, we can push what we wanted to do on Saturday to another day." He clapped. "I'm so excited. When are we supposed to be there?"

"That's a really good question," Tom said. "Since it was a spur of the moment idea." He laughed. "I'm going to say seven. If she takes to you guys and seems fine, we're going to leave then and you get to put her to bed. If she doesn't, we'll do it ourselves and leave after."

"Do you already have plans for that night?" Luke asked.

"Not yet." Tom sighed. "We just need a bit of alone time, Luke. Movie, dancing, quiet dinner, I don't care."

"We'll be there at six," Luke said. "It'll be an adventure."

  


Tom checked the time; it was still 45 min to go until Chris would be home. He settled down with India, kissing her cheek and rubbing her tummy, and she showed him the toy she was playing with, prompting him to interact with her. He felt listless, not in the mood to start anything, and at the same time, honestly fearful of what Chris coming home to them would bring. Every evening was so fraught with pressure and tension lately, not in the least bringing the rest and relaxation that they so direly needed.

There had been a few moments yesterday when his nerves had been set so tight that he honestly felt that if this was going to happen again, he might have to think about letting Chris go. From the first weekend they'd been together, moments of intense bliss had suddenly been replaced by moments of intense stress – Chris' extreme guilt over leaving Elsa, causing him to lash out at Tom, Chris' hurtful reaction over meeting her again when she came back for counseling... It sometimes felt like he was living with a live wire. And while Chris had never done anything to him, not physically, anyway, it was a kind of raw, desperate energy that Tom found very hard to balance and that honestly sometimes scared him. Knowing that he was too fearful to mention how hard this was on himself to Chris told him that they were crossing over in very shady territory – he was too afraid Chris would not be able to deal with it, that he might make matters worse.

And then talking to people on the phone like he just had... his life had already been so inexorably tied to Chris', to his child's. He'd fallen out with his family over him. Had pledged himself to taking care of India. He was bound to meet Chris' family as his boyfriend for the first time. And he was so excited about being on that journey with Chris. He just wanted it to be going on and on and on.

He cuddled his face into India's belly but she pushed him away, too busy with other things.

"You're not really tired either, aren't you?" Tom asked. "Come on, sweet girl. Let's go make someone's day."

  


* * *

  


If Chris had been anxious the last time he stepped into Michael's office, it was nothing against how he was feeling today. Tight. Determined. And ready to hurl.

"I need to get a grip on this," he said as his opening line.

"A grip?"

"I hate every moment of it, and I hate saying you're right, but..." Chris drew a deep breath, his hands tight on at his armrests, "Whatever is going on with me, it's... it's threatening my relationship, and... I can't let that happen."

"Want to tell me what happened since we saw each other last?" Michael asked.

It was so private, so... immediate. "It... whatever we're doing here, it works," Chris choked out. "I'm coming apart at the seams. I've been a complete mess since Tuesday. Afraid of everything. Thinking life ends if someone figures out Tom and I are together. We're on set all day together at the moment. When I try watching what we do so no one notices it's hell. Tom hates it."

"Do you?"

"I am so afraid."

"Of what? What do you think is going to happen?"

It was like a blank wall of fear was going up in front of him. All he could do was shrug. "The idiot thing is... Tom outed us to a friend..."

"Oh?" Michael's raised brow, showing Chris that he didn't approve.

"It's... it's okay, it really is. It's a mutual friend who wouldn't bat a lash if we both decided to dress up in drag tomorrow and dance the hula on national television. He'd probably throw a bash, show up smoking a huge cigar and insist on throwing hundred dollar bills at us." The mental image made him laugh. "He really honestly doesn't care. I think that's the point Tom wanted to make. And the moment he told him, it was okay. It really was. Next morning it turns out our driver has figured it out long ago. Just didn't say anything. He says I have a telling face. Did not help with the anxiety."

"Was he okay with you being together?"

"Had about the significance of a road bump for him. Probably less."

"So you have proof that there are people who it doesn't make a difference to, but it doesn't make a difference in your level of fear," Michael iterated.

Chris nodded tightly. "And Tom is so ready to come out... maybe not to the whole world, but at least to the people we work with and deal with every day. He's so proud..." He sighed and shook his head and knew that his expression was mellowing. "He's so proud to be with me, dammit. He just wants to tell everyone. He's not indiscriminate about it, mind you. And I feel so stupid because the person who's had the most wind blown in his face about it has been him... and I'm the one who can't deal with..."

"But you are dealing with it," Michael interrupted him. "You told your parents and your older brother. I think you mentioned a friendly gay couple who know."

"Tom's publicist and his boyfriend, yeah."

"And you've specifically requested a gay counselor," Michael pointed out.

"I'm not a homophobe, no," Chris said, a little take aback. "People should be free to love who they fall in love with. It really doesn't matter to me."

"Unless it's you."

"I'm an idiot, right?" Chris groaned. "And you know what just occurred to me? When we first came together, it was Tom who was afraid of being gay. Had been, all his life. I spent a good amount of energy and love on him to teach him that the world does not crumble if he actually is. He took to it like fish to water and now I'm the handbrake on everything to do with coming out." He grimaced. "I'm an idiot."

"Maybe you counted on him being the handbrake and now things are moving too fast?" Michael hazarded a guess.

"Heh heh, possibly." Chris exhaled, relaxing a little. "He's the cutest about being with me, though."

"What do you mean?"

"It's so easy to make him happy," Chris said. "It takes so little." Tom's face was prominent in his mind and made him smile. "I love him so damn much."

Michael allowed him to stay with that for a while, a welcome respite from the tension he'd felt coming in.

"I do suffer from not being able to show how much I love him," Chris said pensively, thinking out loud. "I want to hold hands with him all day and show him off and just want everyone to know that we're together."

"How does it make you feel when you say that?"

"Light. Happy. Loved," Chris said.

"So basically, you both feel the same way about each other, and about wanting to show it to everyone," Michael said in a quiet tone, not wanting to disturb Chris' thoughts.

"I can't wait to hang out with my family and be affectionate towards Tom," Chris said. "It'll be awesome."

"Hm." Michael leaned back in his chair and looked pensive. "Let's try something. I want you to close your eyes and relax. Think of something nice."

"Ha ha," Chris made, and smiled. They both knew what, or rather who, he was going to think of. He settled into his chair and closed his eyes as Michael had requested.

"So you're in a room with your family, you all sit around talking. Where are you with Tom?"

"This is so sappy," Chris complained.

"That's okay."

"We're on that big two-seater," Chris said. "Tom is laughing. I... this is never going to happen."

"Just go with the flow. What do you see?"

"He's sitting between my legs. I rest my chin on his shoulder."

"That's a nice picture. Very close, loving, and happy."

"Yeah. I'm holding his hand. He's talking with mom, they get on like a house on fire."

"Is anyone else in the room?"

"My dad. He listens."

"Is he okay? Is he looking at you?"

"He... he's playing with one of Luke's kids, she sits in his lap. I know it makes him a little uncomfortable actually seeing us together, but he's nodding at me, letting me know it's okay."

"And Luke?"

"Luke is a little fucker. He's been raising hell about... He was really upset about me not confiding in him sooner, but... He's sitting in the other two-seater with his wife. He's completely relaxed and makes rude gestures at me when he thinks Tom doesn't see him." The picture made him laugh. He and Luke would be okay.

"The door opens. Liam comes in."

"God, I hate you," Chris exhaled.

"Humor me. Stay with it. You have this lovely family picture of the... what is it, six of you? There are kids. People are talking, smiling and laughing. Everything is fine. Liam comes in. What happens?"

"I tense up," Chris said, feeling his heartbeat fasten. "I sit up straight. I want to protect Tom."

"What does Liam do?"

"He looks around for a way to hurt me."

"Literally, like a knife?"

"I don't know." He was on high alert now.

"How do the other people in the room react?"

"They just keep on doing what they're doing."

"Liam comes in, you feel he wants to hurt you, everyone is oblivious. It's just you and him who know."

"Yes."

"Does Tom notice?"

"I can't let him."

"Why?"

"I need to protect him."

"Breathe, Chris."

"I can't, dammit." The feeling of threat intensified manifold.

"Tell me what happens."

"He's coming over. He's having this calculating look on his face. It goes back and forth between Tom and me. He knows Tom is my weak spot. He's thinking of what he could do to him to hurt me."

"What do you do?"

"I don't know what to do. If I get up, I leave Tom unprotected. I can't risk it."

"Tell Tom."

"What?"

"He's basically sitting in your lap, Chris. Squeeze his hand, tell him what is happening to you."

"I can't. I can't!" Chris was getting really agitated now.

"Can you talk to someone else? Can you tell your mum?"

"I did. I did a thousand times!" Chris cried. "She's always tired. We need to take care of her. I can't... Liam hurt her and it was my fault."

"Did you tell her then?"

"No, no, he... Liam said he would and... and then I... I..." The scene from so many years back suddenly rushed at Chris. Cunning little Liam, always so quick-witted, always weaseling out Chris' weakest spots, taunting him, trying to get a rise out of him, knowing that Chris was unlikely to even understand that he was mean to him, that he did it on purpose. It had been his favorite sport when he was a kid, running circles around his good-natured brother, getting a rise out of him. And they could never get loud about it, because mum was not well, they had to take care of mum, it was Chris' job to keep Liam from upsetting mum...

"Tell me what you see," Michael urged. "Tell me what you see right now."

"He's little, he's yelling at me in the kitchen. He's trying to get a rise out of me and mum is lying down, she needs a rest. I'm trying to hold him still, but he's crying and yelling and saying really mean things and... and she wakes up and... and Liam is so mad, he's like... and she's coming in and... and I yell at her to stay back and... and she doesn't she's there and... and he kicks me in the stomach and I let go and she grabs him and... he kicks and screams and there is this crack and... and she's crying and..." Chris' voice petered out. For a long while, he just stayed still, stayed with a memory he hadn't given much thought in a very long while, that had not been this emotionally vivid in a very long while, either.

"Is that when he broke your mother's finger?" Michael asked, and when Chris nodded: "And then your dad came home and gave you a tongue lashing about scraping with your little brother?"

Chris swallowed on a dry throat. Tears were burning behind his eyelids. "They were good parents," he said feebly. "They are good parents. They're the best. I have great brothers. I love them very much."

"And you were a teenage boy left alone with a task that was way over your head," Michael said. "And no one noticed. No one helped."

"Mum and I were so close before Liam came," Chris said. "We were always together. Then she got sick, and... and it took a long time for her to get better."

"Is she okay now?"

Chris nodded. "She's fine. She's the best."

"Did things with Liam get better eventually?" Michael asked.

That fateful evening. Liam taunting him, bullying, weaseling. Chris growing so hot under his skin but not giving in. His grandpa's lessons paying off, _Don't let him get to you son. That's what he's after._ Dad coming in the moment Liam throws the knife at him.

"He got in so much trouble," Chris said tonelessly. "He was out of control. No one could know, because... my parents are teachers and social workers, you know." He smiled wryly, opening his eyes to contemplate his hands. "If they can't manage their own kids, well."

"So that's the family secret," Michael said. "Everyone is staying quiet on it."

'"Not anymore." Chris let out a humorless chuckle. "Liam keeps blabbing about it on talk shows as if it was all a great joke."

"It's never been one to you."

Chris just shook his head. He felt numb, tired.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but could you go back to that first scene now? The one where you all sat together, happy, Tom in your arms, things are good..."

"And then Liam comes in." It didn't matter any more now. He settled back and pictured the scene.

"Has anything changed?"

"I'm wary," he said. "I hold Tom a little tighter. Liam knows I have seen him."

"How does he react?"

"He keeps back a little. He isn't coming so close, not behind our backs."

"Tell Tom he's there."

Chris took a deep breath. He imagined... then he laughed. "He already knows."

"Oh?"

"He picked up that I got tense. He looks at me and asks... he says... 'What's wrong, honey?'"

"What happens next?"

"I point at Liam."

"Can Tom see him?"

"Yeah. He's saying hi."

"What's happening? How does Liam react?"

"He gives me a look. Hah." He blew out a soggy breath. "Damn."

"Share. I'm curious."

"He gives me that look, like... like he's seeing that there's nothing to gain for him. He... it's like he's respecting... he gets that I'm not alone any more."

"Is he backing off?"

"Yeah."

"And Tom?"

"He's kissing my cheek and rubbing my thigh and reassuring me." He sniffed. "Ah, damn."

"It sounds to me like you're not alone any more." Michael said quietly. "It sounds to me as if you are now protected."

  


* * *

  


Chris' insides were still shaking when the session drew to a close. He didn't really know how he felt. Maybe it should have been more of a relief, but mostly it was like someone had wrung him out and rattled all the bits inside of him and now he would have to start reassembling them... but now that prospect didn't feel so scary any more. There was hope. There was knowing it would never get that bad any more. He'd looked it in the eye now. He'd seen the monster's face.

Tom had had an early day at work today and they'd agreed on him rather taking India home than waiting for Chris to finish and bring him to therapy. He'd talked about having dinner ready when Chris arrived, so as far as he knew, he was to catch a cab once he was finished and head straight home.

Chris nearly cried when he opened the door to the waiting room and Tom was already there. He got up when he saw him coming out, India on his arm.

"Hey."

"Why are you here?" Chris asked, rushing over to meet them.

"I don't know, I kind of... it felt as if I should," Tom said. "Are you okay?"

Chris shook his head and nodded at the same time while trying to sniff away tears.

"That looks ominous," Tom said, laughing softly.

"Just so glad to see you," Chris said. "See you two." He enveloped them both in a huge hug and kissed both their foreheads, one after the other.

"So it's okay to pick you up? I wasn't sure?"

"Very." Chris dipped his head and kissed him softly. "Never so much as today."

Behind them, the door to Michael's office opened. There was no one left in the waiting room; they were last. Chris turned around.

"Don't mean to disturb," Michael said, pointing towards the door at the far end, where the toilet was located. "Don't mind me."

"Tom's come to pick me up," Chris said. "Let me introduce you."

It was one of the proudest moments of his life.


	16. Closer to the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris struggles with telling Tom about his history. A few new, suprising aspects of the story come to light.

It was such a strange sensation to be back in real life. They stepped out of the office building into the dark street, and Chris wondered how everything could be the same while he now felt so different.

He looked at Tom, who had dressed in one of his, Chris', coats so he could accommodate India in her carrier strapped to his front. It was cold, and he had eschewed the push-chair, like Chris would have done. Chris reached over to rub his back between his shoulder blades and smiled at him, getting an almost startled look back.

Ah. Right. They were in public. Quiet public, at the moment, but still.

"So. Where are we going?"

"I found a nice restaurant online, not too far off," Tom said, taking out his phone to check for the way. "See? It said family friendly." He tapped on the screen, revealing a photo of a pleasant-looking interior with lots of bright colors. "So no one should care if India gets loud."

"Okay." He felt so tender, nothing but emotions.

"Do you mind if we walk?"

"Not at all." Chris shifted the nappy bag he was carrying to his other shoulder. "Do you mind if we hold hands?" Another startled look, a bit of suspicion mixed in. "We don't have to."

A set in the jaw, imperceptible nod. Tom held out a gloved hand.

Chris took it.

They set out, Chris' heart beating in the back of his throat. He couldn't quite place the feeling at first. Then it came to him. It was freedom. Elation. He felt like he was walking on clouds.

This was a predominantly residential neighborhood of London, so the traffic in the street was comparatively small. A few street lamps lit the side walk, the occasional car passed by. They were dressed in heavy coats, caps and had the hoods up because it was so chilly. It was very unlikely they would be recognized. Chris didn't want to think about whether he'd do this in broad daylight. Little steps. Little steps.

Tom was very quiet for being Tom, but Chris cherished the silence. It allowed him to let his emotions settle. What he'd gone through in therapy today was still working in the back of his mind, turning old things over, shifting his perception, rearranging old beliefs. Walking in a straight line felt good. Doing it with Tom felt good. Knowing he could just take one step after the other felt good.

Tom gave him an insecure smile. Chris smiled back and pressed his hand. "It'll be okay," he said. "I promise. It'll be okay."

He became so aware of Tom's hand in his, holding it. He lifted it up and kissed its gloved back, scandalizing Tom even more.

"What the hell happened today?" Tom asked. "What on earth did you two do in there?"

"I'll tell you if you want to know," Chris said, but it felt like someone else said it.

Everything felt so unreal right now. All he could do was follow Tom's lead as they walked.

They finally turned into a brightly lit corner entrance, scaling the six steps to the door. Chris opened the door for Tom and India. They both blinked against the sudden bright light, and Tom immediately started unbuttoning and then unzipping his coat to make space for a suddenly squirmy India who could not wait to look at everything.

A friendly server appeared and helped them get seated. The restaurant wasn't too full yet at a Thursday night at seven. Chris still noticed looks and then smiles when he helped Tom out of his coat, and then quickly unstrapped the baby and took her on his arm.

"There you are, little girl," he said. "Tom, turn around, I'll help you with the clasp in the back."

Tom did as asked and sighed with relief when he could take off the harness. "She's getting heavy," he said. "She's soon going to be too big for the carrier."

"Hopefully not that soon," Chris said, nuzzling his giggling daughter's neck. "Hm? Don't you grow up on me now, little girl."

Tom's face wasn't the only one with an indulgent smile. "It would probably help if she didn't wriggle so much. Hm, India?" He helped unzip India's coat and put everything away while Chris sat down on the round bench with her and replaced the warm, fur-lined leather booties with lighter ones from the nappy bag. India was also furnished with a couple of toys and an apple slice to munch on and they were set.

The waiter appeared soon with the menus and they ordered drinks. Under the table, Chris could feel Tom's hand against his thigh, and then on top of it. He brushed his own across it in reassurance and then needed it again to turn the pages of his menu while holding on to India on his knee with the other.

Tom shifted by his side and sighed.

"You okay?" Chris asked.

"Yeah." Tom rubbed his thumb over his thigh. "This is nice."

"That was an excellent idea," Chris said. "Thank you so much for coming out to pick me up."

Tom shrugged.

The waiter came back to take their orders and brought a few biscuits for India to munch on, while the adults got a basket of bread and their beverages. Once he had bustled off, it was just them for a while. Chris reached under the table cloth and meshed his hand with Tom's, stroking it reassuringly.

"Chris, you're freaking me out," Tom admitted with a laugh.

"Should I stop?"

"No!" Tom laughed again. "No." He blushed a little. "Just... unexpected."

"I know." For the first time tonight, Chris' heart fell. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not really sorry," Tom said. "Just... you don't normally say much about what's going on behind closed doors in therapy, so..." He looked at him expectantly.

"It's usually not pretty," Chris said. "It's all ugly stuff and things you aren't proud of."

Tom shrugged. "So?"

He'd have to leave cloud nine to talk to Tom, and he hadn't thought about what he wanted to say.

"There was a lot of old stuff bubbling up today. I... I came in wanting to really work on everything. Like... I hate how hard all of this is on you, and I hate... how I kind of... disappear from the relationship to deal with this crap and... that really worries me and bothers me and... I want you to know I'm working really hard on this."

Tom's eyes searched his face.

"I know I keep saying that. I feel like that's all I've been doing lately, talk talk talk. Words on words on words and then... completely unable to cope."

"And do you feel that's changing?" Tom asked delicately.

"Do you?" Chris asked back. "Do you still believe in me, Tom?"

"Honey..." Tom sighed, but the grip on Chris' hand was as tight as ever. "I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through. What hurts you, hurts me. When you're so out of sorts, I... it's sometimes hard not to panic with you. Because we're so in tune... I love it most when there's no beginning and no end between us and when things like this happen... I realize I have to put distance between us or I'm going to get pulled into the pit right with you... and that is what hurts the most." Tom searched his eyes and Chris could see tears brimming in them. "What I want is just be this trusting child with you, knowing you can't harm me... but when you're set on harming yourself, I need to back off and kind of push you around to get you to snap out of it, or pretend it can't touch me to get you safely to the other side... and that's what I hate. It has nothing to do with not believing in you. It has everything to do with missing the partner I cherish above all else."

"I'm working really hard on it..."

"I know, honey."

It suddenly all felt so futile. He shifted to the back, the earlier elation gone.

"Help me understand. Talk to me about what's going on with you," Tom said.

It was hard. It was so, so hard. He readjusted his daughter who was reaching for another biscuit and had to let Tom's hand go for a moment to get her the snack she craved. He angled his seat a little more towards Tom but didn't attempt to take his hand again.

"I don't really know how it all fits together yet," he said. "Why what happened... when I was much younger... and not with you... and it's now okay..."

"Just get it out, I'm not here to judge," Tom encouraged him.

"Michael kind of... he had me go and..." He just couldn't talk about it like that. It would sound too crazy. Tom would not believe him anyway. The old panic started to crawl up his throat, but now... now he had a connection. He'd recognized something today. He believed no one saw him and no one believed him because no one did back then. But those times were over. _Tom would not die if he upset him_.

The revelation hit him like a kick to the gut; he had a hard time breathing.

"It's okay, honey. Give me India. Have a drink of water, Chris." Tom was all business now. A faraway part of Chris recognized that Tom was doing exactly what he'd described earlier – backing off to give him space and guide him. He was pathetically thankful for it.

Their food arrived and with it, a truly royal high chair for India. For a moment, they were busy doing ordinary things, putting the baby in the chair, getting a bib around her and her sleeves rolled up before she dove enthusiastically for the juicy bits of finger food on her plate.

They both had to laugh about the contortions she went through to let them know just how _yummy_ the food was; oohs and ahs and nearly falling out of her chair when she twisted with pleasure, tomato sauce all over her hands and face. The baby's order had included hot towels, so inbetween bites of their own food, they cleaned her as well as they could. But the food _was_ yummy and filling and wonderful and ended in delightfully sinful desserts and terrifically calorific cream-topped hot chocolates while India had a calming bottle of fennel tea in Chris' lap.

Tom had to get up to find the toilet, and when he came back, he found a folded napkin on his place.

"Open it," Chris said shyly.

On it, he had written: "You have no idea how happy you make me."

Tom reached over to touch his leg and said: "We'll get through this, Chris. It'll be all right."

  


* * *

  


They weren't finished with the evening yet. Bundling up, they asked the waiter for directions and found a small commercial area not far off where they took their time ambling about, looking at window displays and Tom pointing out the odd historical architecture or inscription. When India showed signs of getting overly tired, they slowly started back to the car, which was still parked at the counseling office. As soon as the streets got darker again, and less busy, they held hands, both reaching for each other at the same time.

Chris let Tom drive, his head against Tom's shoulder, hand on his thigh. It had been a wonderful evening, but he knew it would end some time, and Tom would ask him what was up, what had happened, if he could explain. All he wanted to do was drown in his lover and forget reality for just a moment, shut everything out and everything off. But that was what they'd been doing from the start, trying to create a bubble that contained only them, to shield them from what was out there. And now life, as Tom had so aptly put it a couple of nights ago, was all over them, and it had become impossible to escape.

He shifted, and meshed his fingers with Tom's, pensively rubbing the back of his hand.

"You okay?" Tom asked, giving him a quick look before keeping his eyes on the street again.

"Yes and no," Chris said. He cuddled himself in a little tighter. "Can you just keep driving, just... away from everything?"

"I can't," Tom said very quietly.

Chris looked up, at his profile against the window.

"Today I was thinking that," Tom said. "How linked our lives already are, how much I've tied myself to you, and your daughter and your whole life. How excited I am about that." He feel quiet. "And how utterly scared when it doesn't work."

"I'm trying..."

"I know that," Tom said, possibly a little more forcefully than he'd intended. "Honey, I know. I know. It's fucking scary to watch you tear yourself apart, the way you stab at yourself when it doesn't work, how ready you are to do yourself harm when you think you're hurting someone else. What hurts you hurts me, remember?" And then again, more quietly: "What hurts you hurts me, Chris." And after a long while later: "I'm no use as your pillar."

"But you are."

"No," Tom said forcefully. "It's all smoke and mirrors, don't you see? I have no idea what I'm doing. I miss my Chris. I want to be there for you but I don't know how..."

"But I need you to be there..."

"Doing what?"

It was so damn ironic. Here he'd been, having a truly life-changing, groundbreaking therapy session and the person he'd identified as his main support and protection was doubting his own role in his life.

"Seeing me!" Chris finally said, exasperated. "You're the only one who sees me." He was getting precariously close to what had upended him so much in therapy today.

"You tell me how happy I am making you. You tell me how much you love me and how much I mean to you. But to me it feels like you're keeping me at arm's length. You tell me you feel like you're coming apart at the seams but I don't even know..."

"It's a family secret, okay?" Chris just blurted out. He didn't even know why he'd been saying what he'd been saying. "No one can know, so..." His heart was pounding again. "So I shut up about it. I keep it to myself. Always have. I don't know how to change that!"

He felt Tom press his hand, saw the determined set of his jaw. "You are mine now," Tom said. "And I am yours. I don't care about what happened in your past, you're mine now. Mine. Did anyone kill anybody in your family?"

"No." Chris looked at him.

"Child molesting?"

"No."

"Did anyone go to jail?"

"No!"

"You're mine now," Tom said with desperate forcefulness. "Whatever happened in the past, it's led to this. You and me, now. I want that to be your reality. The dark times are over, we've found each other, Chris, and I'll be damned... be damned to have past things keep taking you away from me." He wiped angrily at his eyes. "I'm so tired of having to be louder than whatever is calling you from back then. I'm here, now, and I'm yours. That's what I want. Just that you... damn it... see me."

"And can you see me?" Chris found himself saying.

"Just tell me," Tom said. "Just tell me, Chris. You keep holding me at arm's length..."

"Because I'm trying to protect you!"

"From what?!"

"It's just what I do, Tom. It's just what I do."

"And it's got to stop. Between you and me, it's got to stop, Chris. Because it tears you apart, all the contortions you go through to make everyone happy but you."

He was too close to the truth. Chris felt how he got ready to lash out.

"You have a right to be happy with me. I have a right to be happy with you," Tom said.

"Shut up!" Chris heard himself say. "Oh god." He immediately regretted saying it but he couldn't say he was sorry. "You don't understand."

"Then help me understand," Tom said.

"I didn't keep her safe, all right? All I had to do was... forget it."

"Keep who safe?"

"This is ridiculous."

"Okay." Tom exhaled. "Okay." He downshifted and turned into their road.

Chris' heart got heavier by the minute. He realized that something truly horrible was now happening. Tom was shutting down, he could see it happening right there.

"Tom, it's really nothing special, I'd... I'd feel really stupid... you'd think it would be ridiculous to make such a fuss about... it's really okay, it doesn't matter..." He was blatantly aware that he was babbling. "Tom... Tom don't do this, don't shut me out, please. Please." Realizing, right that minute, that he was shutting Tom out, shutting him out of that entire portion of his life. But he was doing it to protect him, wasn't he? Wasn't he? "Tom, it's really nothing..." If it was nothing, why was he sweating like that? "Tom, just... you'll laugh. You'll laugh." He could see Tom's jaw work, could see him trying not to cry, and not being very successful at it. What would happen if they went inside? What would happen to their relationship? He wasn't ready to let that go. He'd never be.

"Tom, please. It'll sound ridiculous. I was a kid, I was fourteen years old. My mom was very sick and they told me to keep Liam out of her hair. Just that I couldn't, okay? He was a little pain in the ass and while everyone worried that mom would die, he kept torturing me. Because he thought I wasn't intelligent enough to get that he was doing it. He kept telling me that he knew horrible things about me, and if he told her, she would die. Stuff like that. I snapped. We rowed. I was so angry, I went after my little brother and beat him so badly that my mom had to get up and go between us and... and Liam was so out of bounds he broke her finger, and it was all my fault. My mom always told me to look after him and protect him and I couldn't. I couldn't do _anything_ right. Because of me, my mom almost died."

Tom slowly drew into the driveway and settled the car into the car port. He turned off the ignition and they sat there in silence for a moment. Finally, he moved.

"Okay," he just said.

"Tom?"

"It's okay." Tom turned towards him. "It doesn't make a difference to me."

"How can you say that?" he asked feebly.

Tom gave him a tiny smile. "Because a lot of things about you and your family suddenly make a lot of sense," he said quietly. "How much you all adore your mother. And why for a while, you boys were running so wild that the neighborhood kids weren't allowed to come over to play."

"Aren't you worried that I lost it like that?" Chris asked.

"I'm worried how lonely and scared Liam must have been to keep acting out like that," Tom said. "I'm worried how lonely and scared you must have felt, how terrified that you might lose your mother. I'm angry that no one noticed that you needed someone to be there for you."

"Luke was," Chris weakly defended himself.

"Another lonely and scared boy clinging to other lonely and scared boys," Tom said softly. "It's no wonder you're all so tight with each other. You've all been through hell and back together."

"You can't just all be... compassionate and understanding!" Chris scoffed. "I did something really bad, Tom!"

"Watch me," Tom just said.

Disbelievingly, Chris watched him unbuckle and get out of the car. Belatedly, he did the same, feeling very antsy.

“Sh,” Tom said. “India fell asleep.”

Chris got the nappy bag out of the other door and waited for Tom to get his daughter out of the car. He managed without waking her up.

The trick was to get her up the stairs and changed without really waking her. Chris knew he was too full of nervous energy to do it, so he just followed Tom, then unlocked all doors for him to go through with the baby.

“I’m taking her upstairs,” Tom whispered. “Can you get her the bottle?”

“Yeah.” He felt contrary and angry. Like he didn’t know what his own daughter needed.

He stood in the kitchen, leaning heavily on the counter while waiting for the water to boil. This evening was infuriating. Like Tom pretending to be so harmless and on his side and now this. He obviously didn’t get it, didn’t get what he’d done. And he’d just cracked it out of him by pretending he wouldn’t be there for him any more if he didn’t tell.

He hadn’t been a little boy, he’d been fourteen. He’d been big, a lot bigger than his little brother. He’d had no business beating him. His father had been so angry that for the first time in his life, Chris had been scared to death of him. He’d been shaking and making sure to not get in his way for days, weeks even. They’d been separated: the good brothers to his grandparents, and he, the delinquent, off to his uncle’s, while mom went back to the hospital and everyone worried.

 _And hadn’t everything started there?_ a little voice asked in the back of his head. The self-blame, the self-hurt for being responsible for hurting someone else?

They’d all come back into the big house and a couple of days later, Liam threw the knife at him. And he’d felt so guilty for the trouble Liam had been in after. He couldn’t keep his little brother safe. He couldn’t keep his mother safe. They took Liam out of the family for a while after, until his mother felt better. And instead of feeling relieved, he felt like the greatest disappointment ever because he’d failed everyone he loved.

The water boiled and he blinked away tears he had not known he was shedding. He filled the bottle and screwed it shut to shake it, then added some cool water and shook it again, satisfied that the temperature was safe for India. He took it and a couple of cloths he knew they were short on and made his way upstairs.

Tom was in the rocking chair with India in his arms and only the night light on. Chris took one look at that picture and all his anger melted away.

“Can you get up for a moment?” he asked in a low voice.

Tom furrowed his brow but did, careful not to rouse the child. Chris took a seat and patted his lap. After a bit of shifting, they managed to fit all three of them in the chair, which creaked ominously. They sat very still for a moment, then Chris gave a little push with his foot and started to rock them.

Instead of feeding the baby, they just stayed that way for quite some time, Tom’s head against Chris’, Chris holding him, his arm wrapped safely around his back. The silence was intoxicating, just being with each other, quiet, such an incredible luxury. It felt like an extension of himself when Tom finally turned his head and found his lips and they kissed, completely in sync with each other.

“We need to feed her before the bottle goes cold,” Tom finally whispered, his voice raw with feeling.

Chris reached for the bottle in question, but managed to keep kissing Tom at the same time. Then he watched his lover rouse his child until she latched on, and kept making her drink when she threatened to doze off. He leaned his head into Tom’s shoulder and rocked them, until it was plain and clear that the baby had had enough. They somehow managed to turn and burp her, and then he gave Tom a little push so he could get up and settle her in her sleeping bag.

When that was done, Tom turned around to him, and they just looked at each other.

“I’m going to go shower,” Tom finally said. “Want to come?”


	17. Coming Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all the upheaval, Tom and Chris finally find a way to reconnect. Chris makes an important discovery in the process.

"Can you just sit with me for a moment?" Chris asked.

"Here?" Tom wanted to know. Chris patted his lap again, but Tom folded himself at his feet. "What's up?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk," Chris complained.

"Okay, but... honey, I really need a shower. I'd wanted to take one when I came back with India this afternoon and then one thing led to another and here we are and I'm feeling really uncomfortable." He reached up to take Chris' hand and place a kiss in its palm. "Do you want to come?"

Chris shook his head.

"Meet me in the living room in a few minutes, then?" Tom asked.

"I think I need some time alone," Chris said crossly.

"I can imagine," Tom said. He levered himself up and, leaning over Chris, he rubbed noses with him. "Just come when you're ready."

"That's what they all say." Chris tried to complain, but the way Tom handled him left little to be moody about, as hard as he was trying to be. He took the opportunity and framed Tom's face in his hand, pulling him into a kiss. "I love you."

The way Tom's eyes lit up showed him how much he had needed to hear that. "Love you to, honey," he said. "We'll get through this, Chris."

"Just wish it was already over."

"One step at a time," Tom said wisely. But he straightened and walked away. "Just come downstairs when you feel like it."

Chris watched him walk out the door and close it behind him, and the creaking of the wooden staircase as he made his way downstairs. He expected to feel abandoned and angry for Tom to actually leave, but then he didn't, after all.

He managed to pull up his legs and sat in the rocking chair like an overgrown little boy. The wave of adrenaline was trickling out and left him drowsy, which wasn't the worst of feelings if you'd been through an emotional roller coaster twice in the space of a couple of hours. He fetched one of India's teddy bears and clutched it to his chest, rocking himself, letting the silence lull him. The earlier urgency finally blunted, he was glad for a simple break at this, without being expected to explain or reason.

 

* * *

 

When he finally traveled downstairs, the bedroom was fragrant with the scent of Tom's body wash and lotion. Chris changed into his pajamas while he could hear Tom dry his hair in the bathroom. He hadn't thought about this in a while, but he suddenly recalled a similar scene with Elsa, in one of the many hotels they'd been staying as they traveled around for their careers. She'd been in a sheer nighty, slinking into the bedroom like a cat looking for prey.

Tom appeared a moment later, in his pajama bottoms, his slim yet well-muscled torso still glistening with lotion, and it was as if Chris saw him for the first time.

"Hey," Tom said, his face lighting up when he spotted him. "Done thinking?"

"Too tired for more," Chris admitted, keeping his eyes on Tom. His heart started beating faster. He was definitely in love.

"Anything you still want to do tonight?" Tom asked. "The shower woke me up again, sorry."

"As long as it's not talking?" Chris said. "About... you know?"

"Oh." Tom stopped before him. Chris was sitting on the bed and found himself reaching out for Tom. Luckily, Tom didn't mind, letting himself be reeled in, standing between his legs.

Chris placed a gentle kiss on his belly button and then rested his face against his lover's stomach, inhaling his scent. "I love you," he said.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked, arms wrapping around Chris' head.

Chris wondered for a moment on that, knowing he wouldn't get out of the question. "I think it's going to take a while," he said.

"Yeah."

"I know I've been hard to live with," he said. "I'm sorry about that, Tom."

"You know what I think?" Tom asked, sitting down on Chris' knee.

"Hm?"

"I think..." Tom sighed. "I think you've been working very hard to get to this point. And you've kept telling me about it all along the way. And I resisted it, because it's been inconvenient, and it meant the spotlight was away from me for a while."

"I'm sorry I haven't been there for you the way I..."

"Thank you for telling me about what happened," Tom interrupted him. "Thank you, honey."

Chris just shook his head, his throat constricted again.

"We don't have to talk about it," Tom said. "I just wanted to thank you for trusting me."

"Tom, I'm trying very hard not to break down; you're not helping."

"I don't mind," Tom said.

"But I do." And at that very moment, he felt the distance between them grow bigger again. He didn't want that, he wanted to be close. "It's scary stuff," he said. "I'm sorry I'm snappy. I don't want to be. Just all very raw and... there."

"Chris..." Tom sighed. "You will not want to hear this."

"What?" He already felt contrary again. He so desperately wanted to sink into Tom and forget everything and Tom didn't let him.

"Be real with me," Tom said quietly. "All the apologies – I appreciate them, but I feel you're trying to keep me away from where it hurts."

It really wasn't what Chris wanted to hear. But he was so desperate for closeness right now, he was ready to listen to about anything. He could try and stay in his pit, be cross and moody. All the things he'd tried the past few days, to get Tom to see things his way, to beg him to support him, no questions asked, had not exactly yielded the greatest results. The distance between them had grown, the lovemaking had been desperate at best, and, if he got his head out of his ass for just the slightest moment, he could see what an incredible strain he was putting on Tom, on their relationship. Tom was right, if there was to be any progress, it had to happen _now_. But now was scary and overwhelming and fraught with way too many challenges, none of which he felt particularly equipped to handle.

"What's going on?" Tom asked quietly.

"Every time I want to tell you, I... immediately dismiss what I want to say. It's like I forget it right then," Chris said. "It's really hard... and saying that already feels like I'm trying to lead you away from it again."

"Can I ask you a question about when you were younger?" Tom ventured delicately.

Chris just nodded; they'd had to go there eventually anyway and he was so, so tired of fighting.

"Did you ever talk with your parents about how you felt back then?" Tom asked.

Chris shook his head.

"Can you tell me why?"

Chris thought on that for a while, recalling the time that Mom had come home, and she'd really been looking so much better. How his father had eyes for nothing than her, and how he and Luke had already been so used to pulling their own weight... it seemed fruitless to linger on past hurts now that things were getting better. They just wanted to forget about how desperate they'd all been, how afraid.

"Mom was so sick, we were just so happy she was getting better, Tom. Getting the light back in her eyes, and slowly being up and about more, and we just... helped her with everything, and just having her back with us was such a gift." He wasn't ashamed of the tears pooling in his eyes this time. "And Dad and I... I don't know, Tom. He'd been so angry with me for beating on Liam, we didn't talk for a long time. When Liam threw the knife at me a few weeks later and he saw it... he's not the touchy feely kind of guy. He took care of the problem, but it was still wrong for me to beat a kid that was so much smaller than I was, you know?"

"Did he ever say thank you to you and Luke for pulling through like this?"

Chris shook his head. "Everyone was," he said. "It was nothing special."

"My poor boy," Tom said. "My poor little lonely boy." He drew Chris into an embrace, and Chris allowed it. Something long forgotten stirred in his soul, immediately quenched by _It doesn't matter_.

"I don't want you to think badly of my mom and dad," Chris said feebly. "They did what they could, and they're such good parents."

"Honey," Tom said. "I love your parents, they're great. But they're not my concern right now, you are, okay? I want _you_ to feel better."

"That feels pretty selfish to me."

"But the situation is over, Chris." Tom ran a hand through his hair and he found himself straining into the caress, like a cat. "Your mom is okay, your dad is still with her. Luke has grown up and moved out and has a family of his own. Liam is..." Tom chuckled. "Is being Liam."

"No kidding." Chris rolled his eyes.

"But you did a good job at being a big brother to him," Tom said. "I can see it in his eyes when you two are together. Of course he's still ribbing you and trying to see who comes out on top. But there's love in his eyes. He's still looking up to you."

It felt so good to hear that. A whole row of clamps around his heart seemed to loosen and let go.

"And now I get to take care of you. You get to take care of you. You got everyone to safety, and now it's time to think of you."

"That's a reason to be happy, isn't it?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, honey, it is. I'm so glad you've found me."

"I'm glad you let me love you," Chris said. "Very thankful. Every day."

"Me, too, Chris. I'm very glad you chased me down and didn't let go no matter what."

"Still?"

"Still."

They just looked at each other, and Chris felt his heart lift a little. "Maybe," he ventured. "I got really tired of living half a life, so I picked you to have a full one."

"I hope so." Tom ducked his head and kissed him.

Chris enjoyed it far too much, immediately interested in more. He was so starved for intimacy with Tom.

"How are you with all of this?" he managed to ask.

"Oh." Tom laughed, but Chris could see how desperate he really was. Immediately, he wanted to feel guilty, and then just pushed that away. Guilty did not help. Apologies did not help. Being here did.

"I want to know," he insisted quietly.

"It's hard," Tom admitted. "Because I didn't understand it so far. I didn't understand why you had to do all this when we were already so happy."

That made complete sense. "And now?"

Tom sighed. "Better," he acknowledged. "I don't want to constantly bash Michael's head in any more."

"Oh my." Chris chuckled. "But he's such a..."

"He's a babe, Chris," Tom pointed out. "Hell, I was starting to get jealous."

"Really?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you didn't notice how hot he is?"

"Hard to find someone sexy who's out to eviscerate you," Chris said wryly. "But you think he is?"

Tom punched his shoulder. "Don't tease me. I seem to have a thing for tall, hunky men."

"This one," Chris pointed to himself, not really worried.

"Yeah, pretty much this one ticks all the boxes," Tom said. He turned to fully sit in Chris' lap. "Every single one in fact."

"So I don't have to worry?" This time the arousal was real. Tom half-naked in his arms was real. "Or should I get a haircut?"

"Don't you do anything to this," Tom said, tugging gently at his hair. "Not until you have to."

"Why not?" He was already drowning in hormones, his verbal responses rudimentary at best. When Tom ducked his head to kiss him, he could virtually feel every single one of his fuses blow one by one and god did he need them to blow. He forced himself to feel Tom in his arms, to trace his skin gently under his fingertips, to stay in the here and now.

"I love how it feels brushing over my skin," Tom whispered. "I love pulling it when you go down on me."

Chris' response was a mere growl.

"I love running my fingers through it to soothe you." Tom's voice sounded choked. "I love how soft it makes you look."

"Tom..."

"I know." He gasped when Chris pressed a kiss on his clavicle. "My skin is on fire."

His nipples were also hard and exactly in Chris' eye line. And the way his hardening cock pressed against Chris' belly didn't help, either.

"I think I'm losing my mind," Chris said.

"I think I know what I want to do for the rest of the evening." Tom kissed him again.

"Yeah?" Chris strained into the caress, desperate for Tom. "Does it involve me?"

"Definitely. Unless you want me to call Michael..." Tom laughed when Chris gave him a slap on his butt. "No?"

"Definitely not." Chris shuddered. "No."

Tom chuckled softly. "Get naked," he murmured against Chris' ear. "I'll just turn off the lights."

 

* * *

 

"I should ask you to strip for me," Chris said wantonly from the bed.

Tom raised a brow at him, his thumb under his bottom's waistband. "Honey, I can see the come rising in your eyes from here," he said mildly and just pulled his pajama down. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. "You'd be finished before I was anywhere near you."

Chris chuckled ruefully, getting a very welcome armful of Tom for his troubles when he crawled over and sat in his lap. "True," he admitted. He gulped. "God, you're gorgeous."

"You're nothing to spit at, either," Tom murmured. "Touch me, Chris."

"Oh, fuck." The wave of arousal left him speechless and he hardly knew where to start. Tom didn't seem to mind when he went for the obvious and ran the back of his fingers against his engorged cock then pulled his foreskin all the way down. "That is one hell of a delicious cock," he murmured.

"Let me ride yours," Tom said.

"What?" There was a slight ringing in Chris' ear.

Tom chuckled. He ducked his head and kissed him, moving his hips. Tom seemed at least as eager to get this show on the road as Chris was. "We've never done this," he said. "I kind of like it when you ride my crack. But I want to see you."

"You like it?" Chris asked, dumbfounded.

"Yeah." Tom pushed his hips forward. "It feels really good."

"What about it?" Chris was shaking with arousal, running his fingertips up Tom's torso.

"It's nice and hot," Tom whispered. "You have a really nice cock, Chris, nicely ribbed and broad. Pushes all my buttons when it slides over me." He reached down, giving the member in question an appreciative stroke that nearly catapulted him off the bed. "Easy, tiger."

"You're as hungry for this as I am," Chris panted. "Fuck you, Tom."

"Okay." They both moaned when Tom came in for another hot, wet kiss, their bodies straining against each other.

"Just say it once, baby," Chris asked. "Just say it once."

"I want you to make love with me," Tom said. "Now, Chris. Have me good."

"How do you want it?"

"Let me ride your cock, Chris."

Chris moaned, half-lidded, pushing up. "Hand me the lube, Tom." Tom was right, he was already so hot that he was fairly sure it would only take him a few strokes to come. He didn't care. They were in bed, naked, Tom wanted to make love with him as desperately as he wanted to make love with Tom. It didn't get better than that.

His lover levered up and leaned over to open the nightstand drawer. Chris couldn't resist running his hand deftly up his inner thigh and between his legs, sitting up to give the delicious globes a little bite. Tom gasped, but stayed in the exact position after pushing the lube his way. Chris took it as encouragement. He squirted a bit of the lubricant into his hand and then pulled Tom's cheeks apart to spread it in the relevant spots while his lips and teeth worried at the delicious flesh. Tom's skin was so hot; and he pushed back into his hand when Chris slid lower to lube his taint and balls.

"Should I make you come like that?" Chris asked, amused and aroused by the effect of his touch.

"Tempting," Tom choked. "I still want your cock between my cheeks and I want to see your face when you come."

"Fuck, Tom." He pulled his lover over by his neck, into a brazen, hot kiss.

Tom laughed when they parted. "I can't wait," he panted. "I can't wait to come all over those pecs."

Chris had never been so quickly on his back. Tom shifted around and signed at him to lift his pelvis, and when he did, shoved a pillow under it. "Comfortable?"

"Once I come," Chris said, leering. "Come here."

"I should chain you to the headboard," Tom chided. "I can see where this is going."

He mounted Chris' hips, leaning forward to kiss him, his hot, hard cock leaving a wet trail on Chris' abs. Chris reached down to pull his cheeks apart, pushing his cock into the crack, rewarded by a first deep moan. He dared to grab his cock and run its tip along Tom's crack, making him buck and cry out, and then Tom sat up on it, shifting a little to get comfortable.

Chris pulled his knees up to support Tom's back and was soon rewarded with his full weight, all that warmth and wetness settling on and around his cock. He took a test swipe that left both of them gasping.

"This is going to be over so damn soon," he said ruefully.

"There's going to be a second round," Tom promised, moving desperately on top of him.

"God, work that abs, Tom." His nostrils flaring, Chris watched Tom gyrate on top of his cock, taking his pleasure from him. He reached up and ran his palms over Tom's nipples, then couldn't resist and sat up half-way, holding on to Tom's back, and licked both nipples broadly, the hard tips teasing his tongue.

"Chri-is." Tom held him close by his shoulders, his rutting getting more desperate.

"Nipple clamps," Chris panted. "Next anniversary, there's so going to be nipple clamps. Those little pebbles are asking for it so badly."

"Chris..." The idea was obviously extremely arousing to Tom.

Slowly, Chris settled against the pillows. Holding on to Tom's hips, he made sure his cock traveled the long way along Tom's crack, sufficiently teasing his hole, which obviously loved the stimulation. Tom settled back against his raised legs, enjoying the ride, and when he closed his eyes and exposed his throat as he leaned back his head and arms, completely giving himself over to Chris' hands, Chris thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life. The length of Tom's torso completely exposed to him, he desperately sought his release, the sight of the tip of his own cock appearing and disappearing between Tom's legs amping up his arousal even further.

"Look into my eyes, baby," he urged, and watched Tom come up again, then leaning over him, his hands on his chest, squeezing his pecs. "God, you're so beautiful." Even in the throes of passion, he found time to caress Tom's face, loving how Tom pressed his cheek into his palm, then turned his head to kiss it.

But Tom had to sit back up to get the full effect from Chris' cock stroking him. Chris held on to his hips as he worked him, the soft skin of Tom's inner thigh under his thumbs, and watched, mesmerized, as Tom began to work his own cock in long, hard strokes in time with Chris' thrusts. It soon proved too much, all that visual stimulation on top of the absolutely delicious feel of sliding in Tom's hot wetness. Chris grunted and came unceremoniously, shuddering and shaking, bucking under the orgasm working its way through his body.

He only realized he'd closed his eyes when a spurt of Tom's semen hit his chin and he looked up into his lover's mischievous eyes, even in the throes of passion cheeky enough to find it amusing to aim at his face. Chris opened his mouth and caught some of the next spurt, teasing Tom by collecting the excess off his chin and licking it lasciviously off his finger. They slowly rode each other empty and then just looked at each other with shining, loving eyes, panting, glad to have found the way back to the passion and connection that used to signify each of their couplings before.

 

* * *

 

"How'd you get it in your pubes?" Tom complained as they cleaned each other in the bathroom just a bit later. "Moreover, how did you get it in mine?"

"Law of physics," Chris said, kneeling in front of his lover, scrutinizing his crotch. "Should we just shave, you think?"

"I like you hairy," Tom said decisively. "Are you done down there?"

"Wait." Chris pretended to clean a last spot, then quickly kissed the top of Tom's now very limp cock. "Now."

"Keep it up and people will think you have a thing for men," Tom teased.

Chris came up and crowded his uppity partner against the shower wall. "This man," he clarified. "In particular. Just this one."

"Do you think you would get involved with another if you didn't have me?" Tom wanted to know, back to his overly curious self.

"Since I don't intend to lose you, I don't speculate on that," Chris said. "You?"

Tom grimaced. "I see your point; it seems a bit morbid."

"I know you look after other men; I don't mind," Chris said. "I think you're the gayer of the two of us, to be honest."

Tom laughed. "Touché."

"You asked."

"I love you." Tom slung his arms around Chris' neck and kissed him.

"You're just trying to steer me away from fawning over my therapist," Chris teased, tickling up his sides, causing Tom to giggle and squirm.

"I have eyes," Tom complained.

"You're impossible."

"Still yours," Tom said affectionately. " _Just_ yours."

"You better believe it." Chris felt a surge of ownership curse through him, causing him to kiss Tom possessively, making very clear who he belonged to. "Mine."

They engaged in a very satisfying making out session, cool naked skin slowly heating from the contact and the rising temperature of their passion.

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" Tom wanted to know.

"Are you kidding? Yeah." Chris eyes were wide. "What kind of question is that, Tom?"

"If you don't like men, why do you think I'm beautiful?"

"Tom." Chris shook his head. "You're not just beautiful, you're fucking gorgeous. Everything about you is."

"How does that work?" Tom held his head between his hands and scrutinized him.

"Not there," Chris said. He took one of Tom's hands and put it over his heart. "Here. That's what I see you with."

"You kiss my cock as if you like it."

"I believe I've had my mouth on about every bit of skin on you, and I like all of it," Chris said. "Where's the sudden insecurity coming from?"

Tom shrugged. "I guess if I thought you'd like men in general, I'd have better chances," he said. "If it's just me..."

So all the wear and tear of the past week had left traces on Tom's self esteem.

"I should worry," he said teasingly. "You never call me beautiful."

"That's not true," Tom said decisively.

"Okay, but a lot less than I say it...?" He was just trying to get Tom away from the doubts.

"Chris," Tom said. He seemed to get ready for a passionate protest, then deflated a bit.

"Hey," Chris said. "I didn't mean anything by it. I have no doubt you..."

"No," Tom said. "You're right." He looked Chris up and down. "Do you know why?"

"Hm?"

"I think I am struggling a bit with being more gay than you, and you so singularly focused on me. You're right, I do look after other men sometimes... but basically..." he blushed. "Basically to compare and be very satisfied that mine is the most gorgeous and sexiest and manliest."

"So Michael isn't..."

"Pffft." Tom waved him away. "Can't hold a candle to you. He's tall, hunky, a bit intimidating and way too old for me. You're pudding on the inside. You're goofy and make fun with me. You don't take yourself too seriously. You're love and passion and strength all in one." He blushed and Chris could hardly hear his voice when he added. "You're perfect husband material."

"Don't want to play to my ego, huh?" Chris nuzzled against Tom's jaw. Tom's words had warmed him immensely.

"No, don't want to lose you for being too gay," Tom admitted. "If you're really just in love with me, then this... I might be too gay for you. If I... okay, I know this is really silly, but I'm kind of... a little afraid... I might be putting the gay on too thickly for you and you'll... kind of... get turned off on it."

"What do you think I could get turned off on?" Chris asked, honestly dumbfounded. "You're perfect."

Tom punched his shoulder. "You're impossible to discuss insecurities with."

"No, please. Now I want to know." He wasn't in the mood to discuss tough things, but apparently, it was something Tom had been waiting to talk about, while he'd hogged the relationship with his own issues. He was poised to feel guilty but decided that guilt was not helpful and led to nothing productive. Listening now would. "Hm? Talk to me, Tom."

Tom shifted, looking insecure.

Chris pulled him over to the chair and sat him down in his lap, indicating that he had time to listen.

"I guess," Tom started haltingly, "I... Chris, I think you're perfect." He exhaled. "Each time I set eyes on you, my heart starts to flutter. I can't believe you're mine, that you actually chose me to be with you."

"You better believe it," Chris protested.

Tom waved him away. "So... when... all those doubts of yours came up, about being gay and how hard it is..."

"That has absolutely nothing to do with you," Chris said, meshing his hand with Tom's. "Absolutely _nothing_ at all."

"I don't want to make it harder on you than it is," Tom said stubbornly.

"By doing what?"

"I can hardly wait to be out with you, showing you off, letting everyone know you're mine," Tom said.

"I feel the same way," Chris said, glad that he had talked about that with Michael today and could be so certain. "One hundred percent. I think we established today in therapy that what I'm feeling stems from something else and has nothing to do with the current situation. I couldn't be more in love with you, Tom. And I will be the proudest of all gay husbands in all of the world. This I solemnly swear."

"Cute, too," Tom sighed. "Will perfection never end?"

Chris tickled him, glad that Tom's mood seemed to be lifting. "It might be because I kept a secret for so long, always fearing that things would turn bad again if I told," he speculated. "I don't know yet. I just know it has nothing to do with you, or... you're not too gay for me. Imagine if you weren't, and we weren't together, that would be torture."

"Chris, each time I look at you and realize you're mine, I hear a chorus of angels sing," Tom admitted. "I want to nibble chocolate sauce off your abs all day and keep fantasizing about riding your pecs until I come. I'm so thrilled with being inside of you the thought alone gets me hard at really inopportune moments. When you walk by in that Thor costume that leaves your arms bare I'm afraid I'll be hard in my leathers all day, which is really uncomfortable, just so you know. I'm afraid I'm going to forget myself and lick your biceps in front of everyone on set one of these days. Everything about you is a spark that sets me on fire. Even if you sometimes just look at me from the corner of your eye, that love and tenderness in your expression gets me every time." He gulped, his eyes filling with tears. "And look at that blue."

"You don't have to hold back," Chris said. "Please don't. Loving me is not making it harder on me to be with you."

"Just don't want you to leave."

"I'm not leaving. I'm fighting to be with you completely and leave all of this behind," Chris said. "Be with you openly and honestly in front of the world and make you an honest man, huh?"

"Heh heh heh."

"Or you can make me an honest man, I don't mind being the wife."

"Are we discussing last names?"

"Should we?" Chris reached up to trace Tom's mouth. "Chris Hiddleston sounds kind of nice."

"Tom Hemsworth falls kinda flat," Tom admitted.

"But that's in the future, as you so often have pointed out," Chris said. "You don't have to hold back on loving me now. Please don't."

"Please love me back the same way," Tom said.

"I promise."

"Me, too."

 

* * *

  
Chris was on his back, his hips once more supported by a pillow to cant his pelvis up. Above him, Tom murmured a string of endearments as he slowly pressed his cock into him, incoherent endearments, babbling, really, gasping with the sensation of being inside of him.

"So gorgeous," Tom said. "Chris, you feel so good." He moved tentatively. "Tight." He hissed. "Glad we just came or you'd be full already."

"Full with you," Chris murmured.

"You better believe it." Tom leaned over him, kissing him gently while his pelvis started to slowly gyrate into him. "Are you okay?"

"Perfect," Chris mumbled. "Need more of you."

"Ah." Tom picked up his pace. "You're so hot in there it makes me want to come on the spot." He kissed down his middle line, his hands tracing down his pecs and abs reverently.

"Deeper, Tom." He hitched his legs higher and reached for Tom's butt, feeling how his huge cock filled him out. "Oh god, Tom. Tom."

"Do you like that?" Tom asked.

"Hmmm," he hummed. "Harder. Harder Tom."

He got his wish when Tom grabbed on to the headboard and pressed his cock into him, deeply, like he wanted to send it to the bottom of the ocean. Chris started sobbing when he started to hit is prostate.

"Yeah. Yeah," Tom whispered hotly in his ear as he thrust. "Chris, yeah. Let me hear you. Let me hear you."

He contracted around Tom, clenching his muscles, hearing Tom gasp. Chris reached for the headboard and arched into his lover, feeling Tom slamming into him in reaction, so deeply he felt like he heard a bell ring. "Make me come," he begged. "Oh Tom, make me come, fill me up, please, Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom... Oh my god." The force of Tom's thrusts made him cry out with each one, completely incoherent with being so full, being so wanted, being so naked to another human being.

Tom slung his arms under his knees and curled him up even more, his hips driving into Chris like pistons until he suddenly gasped, and the gush of warmth inside Chris told him that he'd come. He came a moment later, it only took a couple of strokes. He'd deliberately waited, as he hadn't wanted to miss the feeling of Tom's sperm shooting into him.

Sated, languid, he milked a sobbing and protesting Tom with his inner muscles until he finally slipped from him, completely spent.

"Am I spilling you?" Chris asked, his tongue heavy. "Can you look?"

Tom checked. "You're dripping white," he assured him. "I'm quite sure I filled you up good, my love."

"Leave it," Chris said languidly. Satisfied, he felt Tom spooning up behind him, holding him tight, everything about it feeling so safe and incredibly solid.

"Tomorrow is another day," Tom said, his hand lazily brushing over his abs. "I'm so glad I get to spend it with you."

 

* * *

 

Tom surprised him with an envelope the next morning. Chris had just shuffled into the kitchen, yawning, scratching his chest, and found it leaning against his already steaming coffee cup.

"What's this?" he asked, lighting up.

"Open it." Tom smiled at him over the rim of his cup.

Chris picked it up and twirled it, instantly delighted. "Is it a surprise?"

"Uh-huh."

"Cool." He leaned over and kissed Tom's cheek. "Thank you."

"Open it first." Tom's eyes were dancing.

"I'm already tickled." He used the bread knife to open the envelope and pulled out a carefully scripted card. "A spa treatment? With you?"

"I got Luke and Steve to babysit for us Saturday night," Tom said. "First I thought dinner and a movie, but I'd like us to really relax."

"It's in a hotel."

"I thought deep tissue massages, private dinner, jacuzzi, see what happens."

"See what happens. Uh-huh." Chris grinned, completely delighted.

"I want to spend some time with you, just you and me," Tom said. He was very serious now.

"I love it," Chris said. Tom got a full kiss this time. "How many years are Steve and Luke going to stay?"

 

* * *

 

The changes were subtle, but they were there. Tom being more conscientious around him, handing him things, opening doors, waiting for him, making sure everything was all right. He was also touching him all the time, letting a hand linger on his shoulder, brushing his fingertips over his back or stomach as he walked by, casually standing behind him,  just leaning into him, letting him know he was there.

Chris thought it would take getting used to, but it really didn't. It felt good, balm on his soul. Tom carried it into work, as well, being a subtle, close presence, taking care of little things so Chris didn't have to.

When he went to his trailer during a setup-break, there was a huge bouquet waiting for him. There was a card; it simply said: "Never doubt." It would have been way too risky for Tom to sign it, but it wasn't necessary, the words were enough. Chris sat down, inhaled the fragrance of the flowers and wondered what he'd done to be so damn lucky.

And then it came to him; he knew what it was: He had done it. He had risked everything to be with this man. His heart had made an excellent judgment call for him when his mind hadn't been able to. It had needed Tom to heal, and had gone for him no matter the cost or the sacrifice. A little startled, he realized that for once, he wasn't beating himself up over leaving his wife, but praising himself for finding Tom in the nick of time. He would've drowned in his marriage, completely lonely with someone who loved a pretend version of him. He'd done everything right with Elsa and still his heart had slowly suffocated from being with the wrong person.

He'd made the right decision.


	18. Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Photos of Chris, Tom, and India get leaked online.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my unintentional study of what could possibly cause an involuntary writer's block I am hereby adding 
> 
> a. having to race my cat to emergency vet care while  
> b. being super stressed at work plus  
> c. having an inept landlord taking three appointments to finally get a thing repaired, resulting in  
> d. me being laid up with a really nasty virus that put me flat on my back for a week.
> 
> Everyone is slowly recovering but boy would I not miss it if the past two weeks plus had never happened.

When Luke's mail arrived that noon, Tom just wanted to scream. He'd only returned to his trailer to get his phone before joining Chris at the nursery for lunch with India. Now here he sat, paralyzed, reading and rereading Luke's mail.

_Pictures of you and Chris on Twitter... India, too... 4000 retweets and rising... sighted on tumblr... call me back at earliest convenience... pictures attached... don't panic... you pay me well, I'll handle it._

Tom opened the attachments, clicking through the four pictures enclosed. It could have been them holding hands. It could have been Chris kissing the back of his gloved hand. It could have been the myriad of moments when they looked at each other like the fools in love that they were. What he actually found was four pictures of them arriving at the restaurant after therapy last night.

Tom scrutinized each picture. The photographer had clearly not wanted to be noticed by them, or the staff. The rather fuzzy quality suggested a cheaper model mobile phone, and the view was partly obscured by a huge potted fern. The pictures showed how he unbuttoned his coat, how Chris got India out and then helped him get the carrier off, no more. They'd been sitting a bit away from public view after, on a round-table bench, surrounded by potted plants. It would've been too obvious to get up to get a good view and another photo without them or the staff noticing.

Tom blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, then simply dialed Luke's number.

"Hey! Been waiting for you to call back."

"I'm working," Tom said. "So...?"

"Tom, the feedback is unanimously positive," Luke said. "It must have been a fan."

"What do you mean, unanimously positive?" Tom asked.

"Didn't you click through on the links I sent?" Luke asked.

"I was too busy freaking out," Tom quipped. He didn't feel like joking.

"There is a lot of Hiddlesworth fawning," Luke said. "Lots of 'Too cute', 'Hiddlesworth 4Eva' and 'My OTP is canon.' in the tags."

"Is anyone asking for Elsa?" Tom asked.

"Not yet, Tom. We're going to keep monitoring the feeds."

Tom found himself cradling his forehead, leaning into his hand heavily.

"Or do you want me to nip it in the bud?" Luke asked carefully.

"Probably way too late for that," Tom said.

There was a pause on the other end.

"Tom," Luke said reasonably. "Are you two still together?"

"God, yes, what kind of question is that?"

"Do you plan on staying that way?"

"Yes!"

"Then I've got to say this is going really well," Luke appeased. "There is absolutely nothing but positive feedback. People love seeing you two together. Add India to the mix and apparently the adorable factor is through the roof. Which it is! It's a joy to see you two with the baby."

"Except it's on the back of Chris' failed marriage," Tom said. "Which no one knows about yet. That might sway the opinions, don't you think?" It hurt to have to point out the obvious.

"It depends on how you spin it," Luke said. "If Elsa could be persuaded to appear understanding, and the three of you working on making life wonderful for India, I think the backlash would be minimal, for either one of you. There would be no backlash for Elsa, either."

"Except for her losing her husband," Tom said.

"There is that. But in the end, she's someone who has an interest in being in the public eye in a positive light. If she comes across as vindictive and greedy, it's not going to help her image."

"She'd be in the papers a lot if she were."

"And would look backwards and foolish if she didn't appear understanding towards Chris finding out he's gay," Luke said.

"Chris insists he just fell in love with me," Tom said. "Not sure about the gay."

"Again, who can fault him for falling in love with you?" Luke reasoned.

Tom laughed mirthlessly.

"Is everything okay?" Luke asked delicately.

"Just comes at a really bad time," Tom said. "Listen, would you check back with Andrea in L.A. about all of this?"

"As soon as it's morning over there, sure," Luke said.

"And I've got to admit I called Robert in L.A. a couple of nights ago. He sent me the contact information for the publicist he used after he got out of jail for his drug abuse. I would really appreciate it if you could also give him a call to see if he could think of anything else we might do. He's not going to replace you, and I have absolute trust in what you do, but I think Chris could use the extra reassurance that we've done whatever we can to make this as gentle as possible on everyone."

"Send me the information," Luke said. "But I'd appreciate it if Andrea and I came up with a couple of things before we add someone new to the mix."

"Sure."

"Tom, honestly, this is basically going as I would have suggested it to go," Luke said. "If you two keep showing up with the baby in public..."

"We're not going to use India to sway public opinion!"

"You're a dream couple with or without her," Luke said clearly. "But this is what you do, every day, taking care of her on top of all the other things going on in both your lives. This is what's keeping you two from being all over each other and never getting out of bed when that's what you should do in your first three months together."

"Luke!" Tom groaned.

"Honestly, turn your sacrifice into something positive," Luke went on.

"India is not a sacrifice."

"Okay, we won't be able to make it tomorrow night and you'll have to stay home with her," Luke deadpanned.

That stung. "That would be really bad as I gave the evening to Chris as an anniversary gift," Tom admitted.

"We'll be there, but..." Luke sighed. "Tom, you're both earning halos at the moment. Please allow me to polish them for you every now and then."

"I'm just using Chris' arguments so I know what to tell him in a few minutes," Tom said.

"And what do _you_ think?"

"Ugh." Tom sighed. "Not sure that matters a lot at the moment, Luke."

"Matters to me."

"Heh, yeah." Tom finally relaxed a little. "But sometimes you need to take a backseat when your partner is troubled."

"Still, tell me."

"I want the unrealistic," Tom said. "That we can just live our lives without everyone poking around in it."

"That tells me all I need to know," Luke said.

"Really?"

"Yeah." There was a moment of companionable silence, then Luke said. "There is a _joie the vivre_ about you that people respond to and love, Tom. Whatever is going on right now, if this is what you keep projecting about your new life with Chris, the joy, the kindness and compassion that you've shown as long as I've known you, people will keep responding to it. Please don't let any of this drag you down, and I'm sure things will work out."

"I just want to come out already," Tom exhaled. "Just get it over with. Weather the two, three weeks that everyone is going to be up in arms about it, and then just go on to live our lives."

"What's keeping you from doing that?"

"I've been thinking about all of this a long time, Luke," Tom admitted. "I've always thought... there might be the possibility that I'm into men. I never acted on it, but I sure rehearsed it a million times in my head, and wondered what it would be like if I came out, what would happen, what consequences it might have. It's all completely new for Chris. He needs a bit more time to catch up, Luke, and it would be horribly selfish not to give him that time."

"I had no idea." Luke blew out a breath. "I don't know what to say."

"I know it looks like he's this big rock and nothing can faze him... truth is, he's just human, like everyone else." The truth of his own statement settled on Tom as he expressed it. "And sometimes he needs our support, instead of him supporting me all the time."

"There's give and take," Luke said. "Look at all the things you've been doing for him."

"It's not a competition of who gives up more for the other," Tom said clearly. "And you have no idea what's going on behind closed doors, what kinds of things we talk about and work through."

"You're right, I don't," Luke acknowledged. "Didn't mean to overstep, I apologize."

"It's okay, I..." Tom sighed. "It's just been a stressful week. I'd been hoping for a relaxing weekend. That news is not it."

"I get that," Luke said. "I really do. But please bear in mind that, like I said in the beginning, people love the photos."

"Elsa won't."

"Then Elsa shouldn't have left the baby with you two," Luke said forcefully. "I'm sorry, it had to be said."

"You're right." He rubbed his face, feeling a little better. "Heh."

"Hm?"

"Thanks for being my sounding board, Luke. I really appreciate it."

"One of the many reasons you pay me so well," Luke said.

"True."

"Listen, I'll keep you in the loop about any new developments. I expect nothing but thousands of reblogs on tumblr and, as I've recently learned, a lot of what they call 'squeeing'. And if any news outlet calls, I'm just going to tell them there is nothing to say about the pictures."

"Thank you."

  


* * *

  


He was twenty minutes late when he finally joined his boyfriend and the baby. Chris had already eaten and was sitting on the floor with India, playing, when he came in.

"Uh-oh," Chris said. "That looks like bad news."

Tom spared his cold lunch a glance and sat down heavily on one of the big blocks that doubled as chairs.

"I had a call by Luke that I needed to take." Tom sighed. "There is no way around it, so I'll just say it. He let me know that someone took photos of the three of us last night at the restaurant. Nothing major – four pictures of when we arrived and peeled India out of her carrier, nothing more. It was posted on twitter and migrated to tumblr. Luke is keeping an eye on it, but he says people say nothing but nice things about it – a lot of squeeing, were is exact words. I asked him to give Andrea a call and to keep us in the loop of what's going on." He eyed his motionless boyfriend. "I hope that's okay."

"Did you notice them?" Chris asked. "Last night, I mean?"

Tom shook his head. "I was busy getting India out of the carrier, and thinking about you," he said. "They must have sat a little off to the side; there's clearly a potted plant in the way."

"So the truth is out."

"If by truth you mean that we were out to dinner with your daughter, yes." Tom sighed and wiped his face. He took out the phone, unlocked it, thumbed to his mail program to call up the mail, then handed the phone to Chris. "Here, see for yourself."

As he leaned over, India reached out for him and he easily picked her up. "Hey, little girl! Have you had a nice lunch with Daddy?"

"Da! Da! Da!" India pointed to the ceiling, then made her smacking noise.

Tom kissed her gently on her cheek. "Like that?"

She beamed and smacked her lips again. Tom spent some time kissing and cuddling her, and she giggled and tried to kiss him back. The gentle play settled Tom's heart. This was what was important; that India was well cared for and felt loved. He sat down with the little girl on his knee and actually picked up a fork to start on his lunch. He was starving.

India was soon bored with being stationary, and Chris took her on his arm again when he came over to give Tom the phone back. He sat down with her by Tom's feet, letting her bounce on his thigh.

"So?" Tom asked.

"What do you think?" Chris asked, looking up at him.

Tom needed a moment to recognize the look. It was the same one he'd seen on Chris a few times since his breakdown on Wednesday morning. As if he wasn't sure he could trust his own judgment and asked for Tom's, instead. Which was kind of ironic, because all Tom had done so far was worry about how Chris would feel.

Tom chewed on his chicken and took his time answering.

"I'm sorry they caught us in a moment that you felt so vulnerable in," he said. "That's what concerns me most. Considering how much time we spend out with India, either individually or together, it's probably a miracle it hasn't happened earlier, Chris."

"Are you okay with it?"

"I haven't really had a chance to think about it," he said truthfully.

Chris waited patiently while entertaining his daughter.

"Honestly," it finally burst out of Tom. "We've worried so much about this happening and what it may mean, I'm kind of relieved it finally has and look, the world hasn't ended yet. I worry how you will take it but I'm kind of... I feel like I've done all the worrying about it that I'm ever going to do. I'm ready to move on and see where this takes us. I know I'm ready for the next step, but I will wait for you to tell me it's okay."

"What's the next step to you?" Chris wanted to know, still not revealing how he felt.

"You know what it is, being more public with you, Chris," Tom said.

"Like doing what? Specifically?"

Tom thought about it. He had this image in his mind, about Chris and him just holding hands or walking arm-in-arm or sharing a quick kiss hello or a kiss goodbye, or just for encouragement and affection. If they did that on set, they would have to call Kevin Feige, first, so the studio was informed about what was going on. They'd always been great, fair employers, and both of them were interested in working for them for a long time to come. Ultimately, Marvel couldn't really tell them to not be together, but it seemed the right, fair thing to do to inform them before doing anything on set that could get back to them.

"We need to talk to Kevin," Tom said quietly, the weight of what he'd just said settling heavily on his shoulders. "Before someone else does."

"And I need to tell Elsa I want a divorce. I want to announce our separation after New Year's," Chris said. "You and I will have been together nearly three months then. I don't want to wait any longer. I want a clean slate."

"It's kinda like being kicked out of the birth canal, isn't it?" Tom said ruefully. "Are you sure you're okay with this? Do you still feel panicked about it?"

Chris took his time for his answer. "I feel agitated about coming out to the world," he said. "The steps with Elsa, I'm okay with."

"And Kevin?" Tom probed.

Chris grimaced. "I want to, but I kind of feel like... I want my whole family to know first."

"That leaves Liam," Tom said, knowing what a huge hurdle that was to Chris.

Chris nodded, visibly troubled.

Tom put his knife and fork down and slid down to the floor to gather him in his arms. For a moment, they held each other firmly. "I just hope we'll have the time to do it the way you need it," he said against Chris' temple. "But I'll help you, regardless of what happens."

  


* * *

  


Elsa's text message arrived sometime late afternoon, and Chris read it in the car on their way home. He handed the phone to Tom, who sat in the back seat with India, to read it, as well.

"Leaves us time for dinner," Tom said.

"Uh-huh. Any news from Luke?"

Tom called up his own messages. "Asks for a video conference with us, him, and Andrea," he said after reading Luke's missive. "Should we do that, first, then dinner?"

"Anything happen while we were filming?"

"Uh-uh. Apparently we got reblogged about four thousand times," Tom said. "Still no negative feedback."

"Did he send a link with it?"

"Yep."

"Give me your phone."

"You're going to look at it?" Tom was slightly alarmed.

"I want to know what they said."

"Tumblr is dangerous ground," Tom warned. "Let Luke filter it for us."

"Send me Luke's mail," Chris insisted.

Tom did, not knowing if it was a good idea.

  


They stopped for take-out, which Andrew fetched for them. Chris used the moment to scroll through the tumblr thread on his tablet. Posted by a user called "torilla", the entry had now already amassed over 6.000 notes, some of which came with comments. Tom watched Chris' brows crawl up his forehead, until a massive grin spread on his face. "This is so funny."

"What are they saying?"

"Stupid stuff." Chris waved him away.

"Are you blushing?" Tom unbuckled his seat belt and shifted forward so he could see what Chris was looking at. The website showed a long list of "notes" under the entry, many of which just said "liked" or "reblogged" and then named the user. A few, however, had been more eloquent.

" _It's so fluffy I'm going to die_ ," Tom read. " _These boys will kill me I just know it._ "

"Here," Chris pointed. "A lot of exploding ovaries, apparently."

They grinned at each other.

" _I just wish a boy would look at me the way Tom Hiddleston looks at Chris Hemsworth_ ," Tom read. The sentence made his stomach flip-flop.

" _Make no mistake, Chris is just as bad_ ," Chris read a reply, and clicked through to the full post. The poster had added pictorial evidence through the years, of Chris looking smitten with Tom. " _They should get married already and get it over with._ " Chris' ears shone in a funny shade of pink, as did his cheeks.

"Wanna?" Tom asked gently.

"How is this real?" Chris asked weakly, indicating his tablet.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you right now?" Tom asked. "You're like a kid in a candy shop, honey."

Chris could only shoot him a shy look when Andrew came back with their dinner, and he turned off the tablet. Tom scooted back into his seat and fastened the seat belt once more, his insides feeling as if they wanted to take flight.

  


* * *

  


They were all hungry, so having some food took precedence.

Tom felt the day settle on him, and the idea that two more appointments were waiting for them was discouraging. He made a point of grabbing his boyfriend and the baby once they were finished eating, and pulled them over to the sofa for a good round of cuddling.

"I love you so much," he told Chris, nuzzling against his cheekbone.

"I feel very loved," Chris said, smiling.

"You better." Tom snuggled himself in and slipped a hand under Chris' shirt. He was lying in Chris' arm, and India was equally supported on his and Chris' chest, with her Daddy's large hand rubbing her back in comfort.

"Sleepy little family," Chris said. "Think we can take 20 min?"

"We just will," Tom said stubbornly. "Or I'm not ready to take on anything else."

They kissed, and then just settled down together, very much in tune with each other.

  


* * *

  


"In our opinion, the best moment for the two of you to go public would actually be fairly soon," Andrea said. They were split-screen video conferencing, with Luke visible on the other half of the screen.

"The idea is that either of you won't be called to do any promotional work until later in the year," Luke reasoned. "Every news outlet will be done reporting on the 'big thing' until then."

"I heard it on the grapevine that Jim would like to enter _Lovers_ in Cannes," Tom pointed out. "If it gets admitted, that would be around May."

"I can check back with them if you would like me to," Luke said. "But to be completely honest, the audience interested in _Lovers_ will be unlikely to be put off by you being in a relationship with a man."

"I think that's more of our problem," Andrea said.

"I'm booked for the rest of the year, so that's covered," Chris pointed out. "I heard there's Avengers 2 talked about for next spring. That's a bit in the future."

"How Marvel gets wind of this is going to be crucial," Andrea acknowledged. "There's always the problem that you are playing brothers, after all."

"Not related," they said together.

"Actually, there is a large segment of fans who are quite into... _Thorki_ , as they call it," Luke pointed out. "Maybe the innuendo could be a selling point to the studio?"

"Chris draws them a lot of money," Andrea said.

"So does Tom," Luke defended his client.

"Actually, this script relies heavily on Thor getting involved deeper with Jane," Chris stopped their involuntary competition. "Most of the movie Loki's either dead, or in the dungeon. They don't have that many scenes together."

"Which is a mistake, in my opinion," Luke pointed out. "But no one asked me."

"It may mean Loki will not return if you come out," Andrea warned.

" _If_ there is a third Thor movie," Tom said. "I'm not in the second Avengers movie."

"Would you be willing to take that risk?" Andrea asked.

Tom exchanged a look with Chris. "I'd hate it," he said frankly. "I really would. But given the choice of living in secret for years on end or not playing a beloved role again, I think there is no competition."

"So the worst thing that could happen is that Marvel won't have us any more," Chris said reasonably.

"Or they might ask you to lay low until Thor 2 is through," Luke said.

"I'm playing a womanizer with no boundaries in the next movie that's coming out," Chris said. "That should settle the question whether I can still play straight."

"Wait, I have eternal sex with Tilda Swinton in the next one," Tom said. "I mean, married for 500 years to the same woman?"

"Tilda will probably throw you a party when you come out," Luke said.

It made Tom laugh. "She probably will."

"What I can see," Andrea interjected, "having the leaked photos was an excellent test run. You have our recommendations. We've talked about it, and having the public see you more often, if possible with the baby, is not a bad thing. But of course that's up to you."

"You know how I value my, and my family's, privacy," Chris said. "I can't keep people from taking photos, obviously, but it feels wrong to use India to sway public opinion."

"Showing the two of you taking care of your daughter is nothing but showing the truth," Luke said. "And it might sway more than public opinion, it might count for a lot with a judge at some point."

"Not if I use her as a parade horse for gay liberation," Chris said clearly.

"We'll have to talk with Elsa before we decide on anything else," Tom said.

"I recommend doing that swiftly," Andrea said with a furrowed brow. "Do you want me to contact her management, Chris?"

"Hold off on that until Monday," Chris said. "I'm talking to her later tonight." He took a deep breath. "But it wouldn't be a bad idea, to be honest. Make it less personal, more of a career question."

He exchanged a look with Tom. Tom nodded.

"Let us know what you've decided until Monday?" Luke said. "And we'll keep you two in the loop about the development regarding the photos."

  


* * *

  


"Are you okay with any of this?" Tom asked when they had hung up.

"They're just recommendations so far, aren't they?" Chris asked. "I may have to discuss it with Michael next week."

Tom's heart plummeted. "Okay." After a day of feeling like they were back on the same wavelength, this was like a punch in the gut.

"Tom?"

"Hm?" It was disheartening to feel just how exhausted he was after everything that had happened.

"Thank you." Chris reached over to draw him into a hearty hug. "For being so understanding."

"I was just super put off by you wanting to discuss it with Michael first," Tom said against his lover's massive shoulder. "No reason to thank this old Scrooge."

"Why does that put you off?"

"I wish you could discuss it with me." In that very moment, he knew that the way he'd handled Chris' doubts and fears this week had not been very helpful. He'd been too caught up with himself and how much he missed "his" Chris. He hadn't had time yet to think about his own role in all of this, but he knew his moment of truth would come, and not all he'd done in his desperation would hold up to the light. "Never mind." He blew out a breath. "I know there are things that I can't help you with, but he can."

"You and I, we discuss what we want to do," Chris said clearly. "And Michael will help me remove the roadblocks from what we want, to me actually being able to do it."

"Ugh." Tom hid his face against Chris' shoulder. "Sorry for being an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," Chris said quietly. "I think we're just both pretty exhausted."

"That sounds about right." He shivered when he felt Chris' fingernails trace the back of his neck and hummed. "Hmm, don't stop."

Chris' dry lips against his skin a moment later made him draw a hissing breath. He felt them move along the back of his neck, Chris' quickening breath brushing over his skin. He immediately broke out in goosebumps, his nipples hardening, his fingers digging into Chris' thigh.

"I am so damn crazy about you," Chris murmured longingly.

Tom whimpered, catching Chris' other hand and simply putting it under his shirt, against his excited nipple.

Chris drew a sharp breath. "Oh god," he whined. "Tom."

Tom lifted his head and kissed Chris, his eyes closed, just feeling, tasting him deeply. The wave of arousal washing over him restricted his throat painfully, but he heard Chris' whimper, felt his lover draw him closer until he was sitting in his lap, their fronts flush against each other, hands grappling for purchase.

Tom couldn't hold back a moan, his pulse racing.

"Shh," Chris made, his voice giddy. "India."

They'd left her in the day bed, with toys strung over her head to occupy her with while they were talking to Andrea and Luke. She couldn't really see them, but she had excellent hearing, and what they were doing here was not exactly meant for a baby's ears.

Tom didn't waste time pointing out the obvious, that he loved India, but right now, he'd rather be alone with Chris. He simply did the unthinkable and unbuttoned Chris' jeans.

"Oh god," Chris exhaled. Tom felt him trembling, but he didn't tell him to stop.

He kissed Chris deeply, both hands framing his face, his taste and feel completely crazy making and so, so needed. Luke was right, this was what they were supposed to do for the first three months, be all over each other each time sparks were flying, do it on every surface of the flat, in their trailers, behind large pieces of scenery, whenever and whereever they felt they needed to. Yes, he loved India, but this was the hot glue that they needed to have the kind of relationship they wanted to have. Tom had to sink his teeth into Chris' shoulder to keep from crying out when he felt Chris' hands on his own fly.

They silently sighed and sobbed into each other's necks as they slowly worked each other. Long, torturous strokes by long-fingered, sensitive hands on hard, engorged cocks. Having to remain quiet was like adding pressure to a volcano; electrifying and ultimately adding to the power of the eruption. For just one moment, Tom managed to picture what they were doing as if he wasn't a part of it, Chris fucking Hemsworth's hand on his cock, working it like fucking magic, while he was sitting in his lap, leaving desperate bite marks in his superhuman shoulder muscles.

Tom came hard on that image, but he managed to suppress any sound, except for a soft exhale after he'd held his breath through three blinding pulses of semen all over Chris' shirt front.

Chris, however, whispered a long string of soft "Yes, oh god, yes, Tom, yes..." against his ear before he stiffened and came, himself, his mouth pressed against Tom's neck, smothering the sobs that wanted to escape.

Tom held him, milking his cock soulfully, the very idea filling him with pride and awe that he, the previously so painfully inhibited boy from Eton, who had never so much as dared think about actually touching a man, was now satisfying this particular, pretty much godlike specimen on a fairly regular basis.

Finally, Chris released a shuddering breath and sagged against him, letting Tom know that he was finished.

"Was it any good?" Tom whispered, amused, discreetly wiping his hand on Chris' shirt.

Chris was so done in that all he got back was an incoherent mix between a sigh and a moan.

"Me too, honey, me too." Happy to bask in the afterglow with his lover, Tom settled in against him.

In the background, they heard Chris' phone ringing.

Neither one of them moved.


	19. The Last Straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris is calling Elsa back about India and ends up discovering more about himself than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I need to personally apologize to the real Chris and Elsa for completely misrepresenting them in this chapter. From all I can see, they're super happy with each other, with their family, and with where their lives are going, and how.
> 
> So here's the disclaimer that this chapter expresses what makes sense for the development of _my characters_ in the context of this series of stories. It is not supposed to be a reflection of the real people they are based on.
> 
> I just needed to get that off my chest.

Chris was thirty minutes late calling Elsa back.

He was so tired, and not willing to get roused one more time. He and Tom had rested with each other for a moment, softly kissing and touching. When India had started squawking, they quickly got out of their soiled shirts and cleaned up as well as they could.

Chris didn't regret a thing.

He'd missed this. The quick spark, the affirmation of their need for each other right then and there, giving it the room it deserved, instead of always shunting it to the end of the day, when they were too often too exhausted to enjoy it, when it often felt like yet another thing to do, instead of the joyous, life-affirming thing it was. Whatever he had said to Tom last night that had made him suddenly so much more open about how he felt about Chris, Chris still wanted to congratulate himself on it. Just thinking about the moment that Tom had put his hand under his shirt, not to mention when he single-mindedly unbuttoned Chris' fly...

Chris swallowed on a dry throat, very much wishing that there was nothing between him and Tom right now. No baby that still needed attention and certainly not Elsa, who expected him being prepared and attentive to what she wanted to talk about.

Chris positioned the laptop on the coffee table. He'd changed into comfortable clothes, ready to get it over with and get to the end of the day. He started his chat program and waited for it to connect. A moment later, Elsa showed up on his screen.

"Hey," he said. "You wanted to talk to me?"

She must not have expected him to be so laid back about it. For a moment, her expression showed her confusion. "I called half an hour ago."

"I know. I had to wrap something up before I could call you back," Chris said.

"Tom there?"

"He's giving India a bath," Chris said.

Her face fell.

"Did you want to talk to him?" Chris asked.

"It's not feeling good just talking to you," she said.

"That's what it's going to be," Chris said. "I don't want India to get all excited over hearing your voice, and someone needs to watch her while we talk."

"So you don't want her to see me after all?" Elsa asked, all suspicion. "You said you wanted me to have contact with her, _you said_..."

"If she hears you right now, she'll want to see you," Chris interrupted her. "But then you and me won't get a thing done because she's either going to be talking with you or wailing because we have to hang up at some point."

"Does she really miss me?" Elsa asked.

"You have no idea."

"You must not take care of her very well then."

"Elsa..." Chris exhaled and rubbed his forehead. "Look..." He sighed. "Can we, just for a second, all assume that we're all doing the best we can? Tom and I, juggling India with work and other commitments, and you, working hard on feeling better while making a movie."

"I wouldn't have to, if _you_ hadn't..."

"Elsa, we would have broken up at some point either way," Chris said bluntly. "I wasn't getting what I needed out of the relationship."

"Like what? Sex with a man?" she scoffed.

"Being with someone who loves all of me," Chris said. "Not just the parts that are convenient for her."

"So now you're saying it's my fault?"

"Should we do this some other time?" Chris refused to take the bait. "I'm already done in, I don't need this on top of it." He was almost startled by his own brashness, but he didn't take back his words. "If this is all that's going to happen, I'd rather hang up now."

He could see that Elsa had had a stinging retort at the tip of her tongue, but his tone took her aback. She suddenly took him seriously, he realized. Look at that.

Chris sat up a little taller. "So what's up?"

She eyed him carefully. "I talked with Dr. Casey about India," she said. She was clearly uncomfortable with having to come out from behind the barbs she'd been ready to shoot at him. "I want to try."

"What does 'try' mean?" he asked. "Talk to her every day?"

She swallowed. "I don't know how to stand it," she said, the brave face she'd been putting on the fist cracks. "I miss her so much."

"She misses you, too, so it sounds like a great match," Chris said, finding his voice softening significantly. "Elsa, please."

"I'm such a mess," she finally broke down. "I'm not good."

"Okay," Chris soothed. "But I know you can keep it together for 15 min every day, Elsa. For India? Easily."

"I want to know what I did wrong, why I didn't see it," she said. "I wonder how I can ever trust anyone again."

And he was smack in the middle of a relationship talk that he really didn't want to have. Chris shifted uncomfortably. He'd admitted his guilt so many times. He'd let her use him as a punching bag to get out her sadness and frustration time and again. He was getting so tired of being in that role for the rest of his life.

"I don't know how to help you," he said. "I just want India to have her mom back."

"I don't know how to do that," she said in turn. "Because every time I call or want to talk to her there's you."

Okay, that hurt. "I'm her Dad," he said. "I can't help it."

"I wish we'd never made her," Elsa said.

That really hurt. He had no idea if Elsa was saying these things to hurt him, or if she really meant them. Maybe they were said out of desperation, of being too afraid to long for India when she couldn't have her.

"Do you want to see her today?" Chris said. "Do you want me to get her?"

He could read the answer off Elsa's face before she got it out.

"I can't," she said. "I don't know how to do that and not completely break down after."

And still, he'd hoped.

For a long time, neither one of them said anything, grappling with the truth of her statement.

"Like, never?" he asked, the responsibility of what he'd done rushing at him like a wrecking ball at top speed.

"I don't know," she said, and something in her tone told him that as much as she, herself, struggled with this, she was satisfied to finally have found something to hurt him with.

"Okay, well..." He sniffed. "Um... look, um..." Dammit, he wasn't going to cry. "There are a couple of things we need to talk about, but... as it stands... and you having a hard time talking to me... can you please tell me what lawyer you want to use, and I'll have them deal with it."

"Lawyer?"

"I want to file for divorce," he said tonelessly. "I would've liked to tell you in person and under better circumstances and all that, and... I'd hoped we could talk things over and come to an agreement about things... custody foremost, before someone else starts messing about with it... we also need to talk about division of assets and... all that, but... since you can't stand looking at me at the moment, I guess... guess that'll be lawyers then. And... and someone took pictures of Tom and I when we went out to eat with India last night, and they're all over twitter and tumblr, so... been talking with Luke and Andrea about how we want to handle that, and... there's a good chance we might want to go public with it early next year, so... I'll have them contact your management and you can let Will negotiate how you want to do that. Either way..." He just wanted to have it over with. "Either way, I want to announce our separation after New Year's, so... there's that."

"Why wait," she said bitingly. "Why not just go ahead and tell everyone how we're not a couple any more."

"Do you want me to do that?" Chris asked. "Dammit, Elsa, I wanted to talk to you about all of these things, but with you not talking to anyone, how am I supposed to do that? You hole up in Romania and yell at everything I do, but you never do or say _anything_!"

" _I_ didn't want to get cheated on in the first place," she accused him. " _I_ wanted to stay married and see if we can work it out. You didn't ask my opinion on _that_."

"Would you really, Elsa, _really_ ..." He drew in a sobbing breath . "Want to deal with the shit I'm going through right now? I'm going to therapy twice a week and I'm making Tom's life hell because I'm so fucking hung up on my past right now that I can't make a step forward and no step back. I spend more time crying every day than I ever wanted in my whole fucking life. The guy you fell in love with was just a fake, Elsa. And you _loved_ that fake. You wanted that guy, big, good looking, someone to show off with. A protector, someone who'd carry you on their hands and make your every wish come true. And I did that and it left me so fucking desperate that it's now crashing all on top of me. Maybe you were happy, I hope you were because god knows I wanted to make you happy with everything I had. But I was dying by your side and you didn't even notice."

"So you go jump into bed with the next best man?" she asked bitingly.

He gave a soggy laugh. "If that's what you want to believe, I can't help you," he said. "I know I wanted to be with you, and I made my vows thinking... thinking you were the one. And then the fame rolled in, and the attention rolled in, and the money... and it wasn't good for us. It was good for you, but it wasn't good for us."

"Chris, you've never said anything!" she said. "I had no idea you were unhappy!"

"I did try to talk with you," Chris said. "But you never wanted to hear it. It was always, 'Oh, it's not that bad,' or 'Oh, don't be silly, Chris.' You were more interested in ticking all the boxes you had in your head of how our relationship was supposed to go than to ever listen to what I wanted. You were way more interested in everyone else thinking we were happy than me."

"Chris, I gave you everything!" Elsa said. "I changed my whole life for you, put my career last, traveled with you, cared for India when you were busy..."

"But who said that's what I wanted?" Chris said. "I was proud of you having your own life, I wanted to support you in it. Look at what a great actress you are! Three auditions at the drop of a hat, major role right out of the gate! I never wanted you to be just a housewife and stay at home!"

"But that's the... the kind of life I like!" Elsa said. "And there was no need for me to go out and work while India was so little and you were making enough money for all of us."

"It's not what I'm looking for," Chris empathized. "I want to share all the responsibilities. Work, childcare, everything. I need someone who can support me, too. Maybe I'd like to stay home with the kids for a while, while you go work on your career. Maybe I'd like to take some time out and make some indie films or do theater. I don't want to be just one thing, Elsa."

"But doing that would be really stupid with the kind of career you're having," Elsa said.

"And here we go again," he said. "Have you listened to what I just said?"

For a long moment, there was baffled silence on Elsa's end.

"But that's not what I want," she said. "That kind of man is not what I want. I want someone who takes care of me and my family."

"I know!" He sighed. "I know. I loved that you were so independent and such a sprite in the beginning, and then we got married and... and I'm not trying to be mean, Elsa, really not. But then you settled and turned into a _wife_ and..."

"So... but you could have... should have..." Elsa struggled to find something to say.

"I _am_ sorry," Chris said. "I am so sorry I've been hurting you, and I am so sorry I'm not the man that you were looking for. And I guess we could have done this for a very long time to come. And I don't think I would've even really noticed... I did love you after all, and we did have a good life by everyone's standards."

"So why...?"

"I got back on set with Tom," Chris said simply. "Three weeks in Iceland, we lived in the same house. And... I felt so alive suddenly, Elsa. Like every day was magic. Every time I made him laugh, my stomach was doing stupid things. I mean, we got on great before, but... I don't know. He makes me stupidly happy. I don't know what else to say."

It felt so good to finally have it out. To just say how he felt, and what had happened. Things he had not dared admit to himself for such a long time because he was too busy beating himself up for what he'd done.

"So did you plan on trying that with Tom?" Elsa asked. "Is that why you sent us off to Spain, so you could..."

"No." He thought back to that weekend. "Not consciously. I really couldn't concentrate. I really had a hard time learning my lines."

"Because you were falling in love with Tom," Elsa said, and for the first time, something like understanding and recognition was visible on her face.

"I had no idea, Elsa." He sighed. "It all makes sense in hindsight. But I didn't plan anything. I didn't go behind your back. I've done nothing but hack myself to pieces since all of this happened, over breaking my vows and making this mess, and making everyone so unhappy."

"Things have been so clear for you," Elsa said.

Chris snorted. "Not really. I'm struggling every day."

"I mean, you... you made that decision... and then you went for it. You didn't have to think about it at all. That's what hurts so much," Elsa said. "That you didn't even stop to think _What am I doing?_ "

He thought back to that first weekend, to falling asleep on Tom's bed, of waking up at night wrapped around him, of the thrill Tom's words had sent through him: 'If you keepdoing that I'm going to kiss you." And when Tom had been so unsure about what it would mean if he did, how he had not been able to wait, had just crossed that bridge, had told Tom to shut up and kissed him, and... The memory alone was so overwhelming he had no idea how he had not spontaneously combusted with feeling back then. But Tom had kissed him back, had touched him back, had slipped his hands under his shirt, had wanted him back, had loved him back, thank god. He honestly didn't know what he would have done if he hadn't.

"You're right," Chris said, his voice rough.

"You're thinking about him right now, aren't you?" Elsa said. "You never look at me like that."

"I have no excuse," Chris rasped out. "I have no excuse other than that I want to be with him so badly that nothing else matters." He shook his head. "I probably shouldn't say it, but it's the truth. All I can do right now is clean up after the mess I've made, but I would do it all over again. I can't think of a possible scenario where I wouldn't." He looked into the little camera as frankly as I could. "I would do anything to be with him. I have done everything to be with him. Right or wrong, it is what it is."

"I had no chance."

"No. Not after he kissed me back." It hurt a lot to be so honest with himself, but there was also a sense of relief of getting to the core of things and each time he did, what came back for him was that this was his truth. Unwavering, true, and solid, this was the path he was on and it was good. It was okay. He was absolutely, unwaveringly in sync with himself for the first time in a very, very long time.

In the background, he heard India wailing and it made him smile. "Sounds like India's done with her bath," he said.

"Is she still crying when she has to come out?" Elsa asked.

"Yeah. Every time." Chris shook his head, rubbing his hands on his knees.

"Is he good with her?"

"She loves him very much but he can't replace you," Chris said. "And he doesn't want to, either. She needs you, too, Elsa. That's not going to change whatever we haggle over."

"But you don't need me any more."

"It's always coming back to that, isn't it?" Chris asked. "It's like you need to remind yourself that you're hurt each time we just talk."

"I don't have to remind myself," she said harshly. "It already hurts when I wake up. I work very hard so I can forget about all this for a little while. I didn't take any of my things so I would forget about it. But you broke my heart, and I can't forget it. I go to sleep hurting and I wake up at night hurting."

"Does talking to Dr Casey help?" he asked. "Do you see her on Skype?"

She gave him an evil look. "I wouldn't have to go if it wasn't for you."

"Apart from that, does it help?" he asked, very much suspecting that as long as she was always returning to how it was all his fault, there wouldn't be any relief. But it was her life, her responsibility. He couldn't do anything but offer to stay in contact, offer to talk about what was coming up, offer her to take her part in raising India – but he could not make her actually take any of these potentially healing steps. It was her decision, not his.

She scowled. "What do you care?"

So he was getting too close for comfort. "Because I still care about you," he pointed out. "But it's okay if you don't want to talk about it."

She just looked at him. "I really don't know you any more."

He shrugged. For a moment, they were both quiet.

"Okay," he said. "I'm... I'll have to let you go." The double meaning of his words wasn't lost on either of them. "Unless you'd still like to talk with In..."

She was shaking her head frantically, looking scared.

"She's always going to be here," Chris said calmly. "When you want to talk to her, we'll find a way. I want you to know that. I'm going to write it down on the baby board. And I'm going to tell my lawyer to put it in writing that I want you to be India's mother. I'm going to file for shared custody. I want to make sure there is no way you can interpret that any other way than what I'm saying right now."

He could tell from her expression that she was trying to shut him out at this point. In a way, it was almost easier when she was ranting at him and blaming him for everything, because there was still a point of connection, the feeling that she still wanted him to be in her life, desperately so. And now... it was like untying a boat from the quay and slowly seeing it float away, to unknown shores. Without him on it.

It did hurt after all.

They stared at each other until she just said, "Goodbye" and the last he saw of her was her leaning forward to cut the connection.


	20. Joyful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris grapples with his reaction to the talk with Elsa and finds that things do change if you work hard for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not read this chapter at work.

Chris sat, unmoving, watching the empty monitor, with the simple message: "MrsH has disconnected. Close window? Yes/No". It was impossible to tell how he felt; it was rather like  having been  bludgeoned with a blunt object.

Elsa's user name suddenly seemed an incredible  eye  sore.  Grimacing, he closed the chat window and shut off his laptop, then just curled up, his hands in his hair, trying to get a handle on how to deal with how incredibly bad this talk had gone. He was responsible for... everything. For Elsa not coming back for her baby. For hurting her so much that she felt she couldn't even talk to him. And then a new voice asserted itself, telling him that he had done what he could to keep her  around . Had gone after her when she'd said, right off the bat, that she didn't want any contact with India, or even hear about her or be sent pictures, for the entire shoot in Romania.  Had set up the baby board to keep her in the loop, had spent so many hours making sure she did not feel she had no connection to her child. Had offered to see Dr Casey with her to help her.

He couldn't find it in his heart to offer her to talk with Tom and India, instead. Couldn't make himself to offer her to talk with Miss Rose and India in the afternoons. He had a very personal responsibility to India; to make sure he was there to comfort her if she became upset about her mother being so close and yet so far  away . 

Instead, he found that his heart was hardening towards India's mother; for being so stubborn, for not being able to get over herself,  for actually using India to hurt him. She'd done it before, when she had threatened to take her away  from him  completely, and she was doing it now, when she had realized she would hurt him by saying she couldn't stand talking with India if he was there with his daughter.

Chris took a deep breath and turned on the laptop again. He opened his word processing program and started typing in bold strokes: Everything he could remember about their talk that had shown that Elsa was an absentee mother at the moment, everything that showed that she was overwhelmed with the task of taking care of India right now. It was like a righteous fury had gripped him, one that let him see things clearly, one that let him see things from his daughter's point of view, and that one said:  _ I need you and you are not there for me. _ He and Tom were both daily putting their own needs last to make life good for India. He didn't think it was too much to ask the same of  India's own mother.

He finally wound down, finding himself breathing heavily. He reread the whole document, then saved it to a secure location and closed the laptop once more. He'd let it lie for the weekend, but depending on how he felt on Monday, he might talk it over with his lawyer in Australia. He didn't want sole custody for India, but maybe Elsa needed the wake-up call. He was in no frame of mind to be objective tonight. But the facts had been written down, and he would look at them with a fresh eye come Monday.

This over, he became aware that he could hear, through the bedroom door, the muted sounds of Tom talking, interspersed with the occasional shriek or giggle from his daughter. He'd had this feeling before , when Elsa had first reacted like she had not known him any more after their first counseling session: Like he couldn't bear thinking that now all of him,  _ all _ of him would l ie solely on Tom. As long as he and Elsa were still arguing, he could at least pretend he was channeling all  his negative feelings into his dying relationship with Elsa; or that they were all caused from that. If it was just him and Tom, then whatever would come up now would have to be solved between them, or must have been caused between them... and that put a huge pressure on him that he wasn't sure yet he could face.

He groaned, incredibly frustrated by the turn of events, by how irrelevant his own problems this week suddenly felt, how childish. Frustrated, that their quiet evening had once more turned into a neverending story of managing things and little time to themselves. If it had not been for their short interlude earlier, he'd sure be a lot more frustrated still.

He realized that he was starting to work himself into a frenzy again, which had not worked out well for anyone in the past. Abruptly, he got up, strode around the sofa and into the bedroom, finding Tom and India on the bed, playing.

He walked in, and wanted to walk out right away, not burden anyone else with this mix of emotions he had no handle on at the moment.

"How'd it go?" Tom asked him, looking up. "We didn't want to interrupt."

Chris just shook his head. "Not good."

"She doesn't want to talk with India?"

"No." He could already feel that ball of emotions bubble up in him that he had such a hard time working with, or turning into anything productive. "I have a really hard time with this," he simply said. "I'm sorry, Tom, this is really... getting to me."

Tom studied him very carefully. Chris thought he could see a fleeting expression of fear and insecurity on his face, which made his own feelings of being out of control even worse. "I'm sorry, I should just shut up. I'll get my gear and go downstairs to..."

"Chris, stop," Tom said kindly. He sat up, and  patted the bed . "Come sit with us."

Chris found himself kicking off his slippers and crawling across the bed faster than he realized he was doing it.  His face landed in Tom's lap, his arms around his middle, inhaling deeply of his scent, his warmth an instant balm on his frazzled nerves.

"There you are." Tom sounded quietly amused. But his hand came to rest on Chris' head and stroked it, and then stroked down his shoulders, touching him gently, running shivers down Chris' spine. "I love you," Tom said.

Chris just squeezed his middle harder.

India made a straining noise, and Chris felt Tom move to pick her up.

"That's a good idea, honey," Tom said. "Do you want to come and help make Daddy feel better?" He settled India on his knee, and Chris felt her little feet kick against his head.

"Hey," he protested mildly, turning his head so he could see her. "What's this?"

India squealed and wriggled cheerfully, kicking him again.

"Are you kicking me?" he growled, getting a fascinated giggle back. "Are you kicking me, little girl?"

The whole baby started flapping with excitement, sharing an excited look with Tom.

"Are you kicking Daddy?" Tom asked.

India giggled and did it again, prompting Chris to catch one of the offending feet and pretend to eat them. "Hm, yummy India toes," he said. "Thank you for kicking them my way, hmmm."

India was so delighted, she strained against Tom's arm in her back, squealing, kicking at Chris with all her might. Tom carefully lowered her to the bed.

"Ah, now I get to eat all of India, hm, yummy yummy yummy..." Chris played along, shifting to nuzzle his daughter's belly, pretending to snack on her. "Yummy baby, yummy, hmmm..."

Before long, India's hands had dug into his long hair and held him fast, her little feet kicking against his chest as he nuzzled her, kissed her, and tickled her with his beard. His heart took flight, knowing that he was doing the right thing, providing her with everything she needed, being present in he life and caring for her. And at the same time, it made him incredibly sad, knowing that his actions had hurt her mother so badly that she didn't feel she could be in her life.

He felt Tom's hands against his back and switched agendas, nuzzling against Tom's belly this time, making him laugh. He wanted to do something very different, kiss and lick his belly, making him strain against him in passion, begging him not to stop. He switched back to sloppily kissing India's face until she protested and pushed him away, and then slid up between Tom's legs until he could properly kiss him, finding Tom's arms and legs wrapping around him. When he pushed against him with his pelvis, he knew Tom was already getting hard, just like he was. He took his time, properly kissing him anyway, gently, yet with the clear message that he wasn't finished with him yet.

"Yes," Tom answered his unasked question. "Definitely."

All Chris could do was growl in return, and kiss him again until his whole body was abuzz with Tom, and India made known that she was still there, as well.

Chris smiled against Tom's lips.

"Your daughter is calling for you," Tom said, his eyes so bright and searching Chris' face.

"Remember when we first got together?" Chris asked him, his voice raw.

"Every moment," Tom assured him.

"Remember when I told you that all my heart could beat was  _ Tom Tom Tom Tom. _ ..?"

Tom drew a giddy breath. "Yeah...?"

"Still the same," Chris said. "All of me goes  _ Tom Tom Tom Tom _ all the time . I can't get enough of you." His breath caught in his throat.

"Always coming back for more." Tom's eyes were shining, intent on Chris' face.

"Always." He dipped his head for another kiss, open-mouthed, promising, his tongue very gently sliding against Tom's.

India started crying, cross about not getting any of the attention, and they both chuckled self-consciously.

"I want to make love to you," Chris said, not capable of tearing himself away before he had not clearly stated his intent.

"I want you to make love to me, too." The hunger in Tom's eyes made Chris shiver. "Very much."

Chris dipped his head and kissed his lover's neck. "I promise."

  
  


* * *

  
  


They somehow managed to regroup, and Chris took India to the kitchen to start her bottle, glad that her bedtime wasn't too far off.

When Tom joined them after a quick trip to the bathroom, he started tea for them and assembled a few snacks, blushing each time Chris looked at him. Chris found him completely irresistible; each time he threw a look at him or "accidentally" touched him, his blood pressure would skyrocket and the buzz in his belly would intensify. As they sat down at the table, Chris with the baby in her sling to calm her down, he finally realized that Tom was wearing his  leather  bracelet.

"Tom," he breathed.

"Please?" Tom said shyly.

"We'll never get her to sleep," Chris said with some desperation. He looked at the baby in his arm, sucking soulfully at her bottle. "Okay, maybe we will, she does look comfortable."

"She should. I blew soap bubbles at her in the bath tub," Tom said. "I thought she'd have a fit she was so delighted."

"Did you play with Tom in the tub, huh?" Chris asked his daughter, who smiled around the bottle and waved her arm.

"She was all soapy so the bubbles stuck to her chest and belly, and one stuck to her nose," Tom laughed gently. "Cross-eyed baby. Great for hand-eye coordination, though. Each time she managed to pop one, she'd go..." He imitated her baby gasp, look at him, and then her baby giggle. "And then of course:  _ Tom, do it again! Do it again! _ " He smiled fondly. "She's adorable."

"I heard her protest when you got her out," Chris said.

"The water was getting cold and she started to prune," Tom said. "It is impossible to be in a bad mood when she's so excited about life."

Chris reached over the table to catch Tom's hand, brushing his thumb over the bracelet.  He had had  it made when he had commissioned the wrist restraints for Tom, crafted from the same color leather. Immediately, the spark was back when their eyes met. 

" _ I love you so much that none of my heart is left to protest _ ," he said  softly . " _ Come bid me do anything for thee _ ."

"Chris," Tom moaned. "God. Not Shakespeare."

"Does it work?"

"Too well," Tom whined. "Way too well."

Chris lifted his hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on  his knuckle , never losing eye contact with a very flummoxed Tom. "Happy anniversary, darling?"

Tom's reaction was a desperate look. "If we aren't able to put her down in time I'm going to implode."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Chris." Tom took a deep breath. "You'll have to take her up, I have a boner the size of which I'm afraid is going to lift the table any minute now."

Chris laughed. "No starting without me."

Tom looked doubtful. "I'll try."

Chris shifted to see how India was doing. She seemed unperturbed by the flirty atmosphere, soulfully sucking her bottle while holding fast to his arm. He lifted her so he could kiss her forehead. "I love you, too, baby girl," he said.

"Elsa really doesn't want to see her?" Tom asked.

Chris shook his head, his throat closing on him.

"Did she say why?"

"Uh." Chris had to swallow to get rid of the lump in his throat. "Said she can't bear to see me at the same time."

"That sucks, Chris."

"I think she can't bear to see India at the moment, either, to be fair," Chris said. "She said it would hurt too much."

"It still sucks. Did she say anything about Christmas, or when she's coming back...?"

"No." It really hurt, still.

"Should I stop asking?"

Chris found himself shaking his head. "It impacts your life, too," he said, and then, a lot more subdued, "Let's be real here, everything I screw up directly impacts your life, too."

"You don't get to think that way," Tom told him. "I signed up for this, you know? No one made me do it. I want to be here."

"When we first talked about it, I thought we'd have her half weeks," Chris said. "Then it was, six weeks full-time, and then we'll see. Now it's... who knows how long. Maybe forever." The thought brought tears of frustration to his eyes  on India's behalf .

"One step at a time," Tom said. "Let Elsa finish her shoot, get her bearings."

"I'm going to talk to my lawyer on Monday, tell him what's going on," Chris said.

"That's a good idea," Tom said.

"Yeah?" Chris eyed him.

"Yeah. Gets the personal sting out of things," Tom said. "Get a third party involved. Hopefully, cooler heads will prevail. At least you'll know what's what, what consequences her behavior may have. Maybe that'll wake her up."

"I was thinking the same thing."

"See?" Tom smiled warmly at him. "Give her a little more time. I'd be heartbroken about losing you, too."

Chris wagged his head. "I'm not even so sure she is any more," he said. "We had a pretty frank conversation about... what went wrong," he admitted. "It didn't go down well with her."

"Chris..." This time it was Tom who reached across the table to catch his hand. "Honey, that sounds like one substantial talk."

"Yeah." Chris blew out a breath. "I'm just so sorry it didn't go well for India." He spared a sad smile at his daughter. "I wish I could have made things better for you, little sparrow."

"I'm still so proud of you that you had  that talk ," Tom said. "And incredibly relieved."

"Hah." Chris felt tears sting in the back of his eyes. "Why?"

"Because each time so far that you two locked horns about very personal things, you were chewing yourself up after," Tom said. "And you're not chewing yourself up right now.  You wouldn't believe how proud I am of you, and how relieved that it isn't happening this time."

"Elsa called me on falling in love with you before I knew I was," Chris breathed.

"What's that?"

"We talked about... oh, are you done, little girl?" The bottle was running on empty, and India was fussing to sit up. "The whole bottle, hm? Good job, India." He put the bottle on the table and peeled India out of her sling to burp her. Tom pushed a cloth his way, and he settled it on his shoulder, followed by a very sated baby.

"What was that about falling in love with me?" Tom followed up, predictably.

Chris smiled. "She said the reason why I couldn't concentrate and had so much trouble learning my lines was because I was falling in love with you."

"Oh." Tom seemed a little taken aback at first, but then leaned forward to ask: "Was it?"

"I don't know." He patted his daughter's back rhythmically. "Probably," he admitted, meeting Tom's eyes. "The question was a bit more involved," he explained. "How meeting you again made me realize that I was... how unhappy I was in my marriage with Elsa. How..." now he smiled. "spending time with you made me feel alive, and as if every day was magic."

"You make me feel the same way," Tom said. "You did when we met again. I just never imagined... this."

"Do you regret...?"

"Shut up." Tom kicked his shin under the table. "I'm glad one of us had the guts to do something about how they felt."

"You'd  have  never done it because of Elsa and India," Chris said.

"Probably not," Tom said thoughtfully. "Though if I'd known you were unhappy... I don't know."

"You would've tried helping me patch it up," Chris accused him.

"Not after the first kiss," Tom pointed out. "Hell, I was  lost after th at first kiss, and I was thinking you were going back to her."

"She had no chance the moment that kiss had happened. I was yours."

They looked at each other, their eyes locked.

"Is India asleep yet?" Tom asked longingly.

Chris checked. "Not asleep, but very sleepy," he said soothingly. "Hand me the dummy, please?" Tom did, and Chris gave it to India, who accepted it immediately. "Her eyes are drooping," he reported.

"Do you need me to help?" Tom immediately offered.

"Come here," Chris waved him over, and Tom dutifully got up and stood beside him. Chris reeled him in and pressed his face against Tom's warm tummy. His hard-on had subsided somewhat, but Chris got a clear whiff of his arousal, which had an immediate effect on him. "I'll try to get her to go to sleep on my own," he said, looking up into Tom's eyes. "Can you go take a shower?"

"Do I smell?" Tom asked, immediately concerned.

"Other than like sex, no." Chris smiled at him. "Just want to make sure you're clean everywhere."

Tom blinked.

"I don't mind that much, but I know you do," Chris said. "And I wouldn't want to wipe you down with wet wipes; I know you'd die of embarrassment."

"Chris..." Tom blushed fiercely.

"You want me to tie you down, baby, don't you?" Chris turned his head and kissed Tom's wrist close to where the bracelet rested against his skin. Tom's half-mast erection was definitely filling in again. He couldn't help nuzzling it.

"Chris." Tom's voice sounded half-exasperated, half-longingly. "Yes."

"I'll do it," Chris said. "If you trust me not to hurt or embarrass you."

"I trust you," Tom said immediately, but Chris could hear his rapid heartbeat on his indrawn breath. "How... thoroughly do you want me to clean?"

"As thoroughly as you feel comfortable," Chris soothed. "And you can tell me later how deep that is. I don't have any expectations other than wanting to make you feel good. If you say, stick to the surface, that's completely fine with me. Okay?"

It took Tom two attempts to choke out "Okay."

  
  


* * *

  
  


Not to do anything about his raging hard-on took Tom an inordinate amount of self-restraint. He managed to clean up the kitchen after Chris had gone up with India, but the mere thought of Chris touching his wrist, of Chris kissing his knuckles, of Chris nuzzling his cock, of Chris... doing fucking anything, was making his erection, easily visible in his comfortable boxers and pajama bottoms, wave in front of him like a baton. He pressed it against the counter top for some relief as he was washing India's bottle, and then hurried to the bedroom to get ready for what he very much hoped would be some truly epic lovemaking.

He quickly got everything out that he hoped they would use, and some things he wasn't sure they would even look at; he just wanted to make sure nothing was amiss in case they needed it. Just looking at the beautifully tooled leather cuffs with their broad buckles and shiny D-rings got him even more excited than he already was, which was probably not such a great idea. 

When he got out of his clothes, his boxers had a huge wet pre-come stain in front, which had even seeped through  to his pajamas. And his cock, red and engorged, beckoned him to be touched when he got under the shower,  twitching a s the first drops of water hit his skin.

He had not counted on Chris being finished so soon, but when he joined him in the shower, unceremoniously wrapping his arms around him from behind, he hissed with relief.

"Do you need help with that?" he heard Chris' amused rumble in his ear.

"No. I mean, yes, eventually... I don't want a quickie, I want... hmpf." Chris had turned him in his arms and kissed him, effectively ending all conversation, his powerful body pressed against Tom's. Tom groaned with relief, his hands all over his lover, finally in direct contact with him. He felt himself shaking, the tension that he had not even known had gripped him since he'd left Chris alone  to talk with Elsa, finally releasing.

"Hey hey hey," he heard Chris against his ear. "I'm here, honey. I'm here."

But it was no use; it was like a flood gate had opened. He found himself clawing into Chris' shoulders, sobbing his heart out, all the heartache and tension from everything that had happened in the span of the past seven days finally pouring out. He had Chris back, he had  _ his _ ... Chris back... no. He had a better model back. He, Tom, was a better partner, too. They'd been through the fire and held firm.  A t the end of it, they were here, together. Growth spurts hurt. And all he wanted at the end of it was Chris.

"Are you going to make love to me already?" he finally said on top of a sob. " Chris please."

"Yeah," Chris said, and Tom could hear that he'd been crying, too. "Tom, I can't wait."

  
  


* * *

  
  


Chris laid him out on the bed and then climbed in after him, his broad muscles rippling in the low light.

"I'm afraid," he whispered into his ear, "that you are going to come before I'm finished with you."

"Likely," Tom admitted ruefully.

"Let me make love with you like this," Chris asked. "Just you and me, as slowly as we can manage. And then after, I'll take my time with you."

"Take your time with me now," Tom said, completely enraptured by the net Chris was spinning around him.

"I'll go as slow as I can," Chris promised, but he had to smile. "Just not sure how slow you can go..."

"Come here already." Tom pulled him into a deep kiss, and moaned deeply when Chris' whole body followed, lying between his legs, Chris' cock on top of his own. It took so little; just that body contact, feeling Chris' skin against his own, the bone deep love and appreciation in his eyes, his gentle lips against his neck, his broad hands touching him so gently.

Tom gasped, arching into his lover's caress, clawing into his shoulders, aware that he would not be able to do this later in the night, when his hands would be tied to the headboard. He reached down, cupping Chris' ass and arching into him, being rewarded with a deep moan and Chris starting to move on top of him, slowly, as he had promised, but just as tortured by the pace as Tom himself.

He found himself flipping them over, sitting on top of Chris with his hands clawing at his pecs, stroking his cock over Chris', slowly, but oh so urgently, watching Chris through passion-squinted eyes, his  lover's pale hair spread on the pillows like a halo, his expression so full of love; the way he bit his lower lip, the way he gripped Tom's hips and bucked up against him, the way he moaned and writhed and gave himself to Tom with full abandon.

Tom could tell when he was so close it would only take a few more strokes. He wrapped himself around Chris, his face hidden at his neck, and they grabbed each other hard as they slid against each other with mounting urgency.

Tom could feel everything; every tremble of Chris' muscles, the way his cock twitched, and then began to pulse between his legs, he could feel Chris' chest expand, and the wetness of his staccato breath against the skin of his neck, moaning out his release. And then he was swept away, himself, so safe in Chris' embrace, his orgasm urgent and almost painful because it had been pent up for so long. 

They laughed a their release, gentle words spoken on top of a wheezing breath, and the incredible feeling shared by both that this was just the beginning.


	21. Tightrope Walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a week of concentrating on his own turmoils, Chris is trying hard to show Tom how much he still cares.

When Tom woke, the first thing he felt was utter contentment. Wrapped tightly around Chris's right side, his lover held him close, one arm around his waist, and one hand cupping his neck, thumb brushing gently over the shell of his ear.

Tom hummed with pleasure and snuggled closer, earning a gentle kiss on his head, feeling not yet ready to face the day.

"Slept well?" Chris' voice was nothing but a rumble in his chest.

"Still asleep," Tom claimed, not opening his eyes.

"Uh-huh." Chris sounded amused, but he didn't contradict him. "It's 5 am, love."

"Plenty of time until we have to get up." Tom yawned, and, without opening his eyes, presented his lips to be kissed. He smiled when Chris did, and smiled even more when he was gently settled on his back, with Chris leaning over him, giving the kissing the attention it deserved. "I want this every morning," he demanded insolently.

Chris chuckled.

"No, really... hmmm..." Chris was so warm, so solid, his skin over those impressive muscles so soft.

"We slept through the whole night," Chris said. His voice sounded regretful. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"We didn't... you know." Chris touched the bracelet he was still wearing. "I'm sorry. I fell asleep after... you know."

"So did I." Tom opened his eyes and smiled at him.

"Do you want to... now?" Chris suggested.

"Too tired," Tom assured him. "Don't worry about it, love."

Chris sighed and hid his face against Tom's neck, his favorite spot.

"Did you worry?" Tom asked, still having difficulties sorting through his sleep-muddled thoughts.

Chris just nodded.

"For how long?" Tom had an inkling.

"About an hour," came the muffled, rueful response. "Maybe two."

"Oh honey. It's fine," Tom assured him, his tongue heavy. "It really is."

"I'm so sorry for all the shit I keep putting you through," Chris said.

"Honey, it's so early, I can hardly think." Tom shifted so they lay both on their sides, their legs lightly tangled with each other, bellies barely touching. Tom held his lover's head in his hands and kissed his forehead, his eyelids still too heavy to stay open for long. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too." Chris' was choking up.

"It's okay, Chris," Tom assured him. He was glad to feel in his heart that it really was. "We'll get through this."

"You keep saying that I should be here with you, now. I'm so sad," Chris said. "I'm so sad now."

"Okay. It's okay. I'm here."

"I don't want to run away from feeling sad any more. I want to be here with you."

"Okay." Tom felt his heart expand with joy. "That's good, Chris."

"It's scary," Chris whispered, nuzzling against his neck again. "I'm glad you're awake with me."

Half-dreaming, half-awake, Tom held him as Chris faced the night in his arms. Half forgotten memories surfaced inbetween the moments that he was awake enough to rub Chris' back and kiss his temple, of himself as a boy, and he only realized he was slipping into sleep when he thought he saw Chris at the same age, running alongside him, laughing.

He almost laughed at himself; he was such a lousy support for Chris, never present when he needed him, and never awake when he begged him to be.

It was no time to voice his doubts. Each time Chris looked into his eyes and told him how much he meant to him, and how crazy he was about him, Tom loved him for it, but he hoped for all he had that Chris loved him for what he was, and not what he hoped to see.

He really hoped he was enough.

 

* * *

 

India came around seven thirty. They slowly got up to take care of her and start breakfast, which they had in the living room; with India ensconced in Chris' crossed legs with her bottle while they ate. They weren't in a rush, enjoying the fact that there was an entire unplanned day ahead of them, letting breakfast segue into playtime with India, and then a second pot of tea and more cuddling and playing, until India started to become tired and cranky.

She had a quick second breakfast and then Chris took her up for her nap while Tom started to finally clear up the messy table. He was just closing the dishwasher on the last plate when he found himself spun around and wrapped up in Chris' arms, and he sighed with content about having the time and the opportunity to share this most basic of signs of affection, just when they felt like it.

They just held each other, swaying, inhaling each other's presence and warmth.

"Thank you," Chris finally said, sounding relieved.

"For what?"

"Just being you."

It made Tom smile, and they kissed, which also felt really nice.

"Are you sure you're okay with us not going through with it last night?" Chris finally asked.

"I am, honey." Tom blinked reassuringly at him. "Are you still thinking about that?"

"Yeah." Chris sighed. "I feel bad because it seems like every time you ask me to do something for you, I fall short. And that's not what I want. I hate that it keeps happening."

"You didn't fall short. It was a big thing to ask after the kind of day you've had."

"You, too," Chris pointed out. "You had the same kind of day and you still wanted to play with me last night, and I fell short."

Tom realized he wasn't going to get out of this one. He pushed himself up to sit on the counter and drew Chris closer with his legs. He took his time to think before answering, and Chris let him.

"You asked me to make love with you after you talked to Elsa," Tom said. "And I said yes. And we did make love."

"Just not the way you wanted," Chris said ruefully. "It's been a while since you asked me to tie you up."

Tom rolled his eyes. "It feels weird to talk about it when we're not... you know... on the way there."

"I'm just saying, I know you're not asking for it if you don't need it... that's why I'm so sorry I didn't manage..."

" _We_ didn't manage," Tom pointed out. "We didn't, because we had a long day and we were tired, and..."

"What do you need?" Chris said. "That's all I'm asking, babe." He made him lift his head and look at him.

It was hard not to feel sour at that moment, and Chris saw it quicker than Tom could hide it.

"What is it?" he asked.

"This is neither the time nor the place." Tom tried to get away from the topic.

"I'm here now and I'm asking you now," Chris said.

Tom shook his head, not looking at Chris.

Chris shifted. "Tom."

"I don't want to go there, okay? I'm glad we're... I'm glad it's kind of working right now. I don't want to open a new can of worms."

"You're my partner and I want to know," Chris insisted gently.

"You're also really vulnerable and need me to be your rock right now," Tom said. "I'm glad we've found a bit of balance as it is." He could see that Chris wasn't convinced. "Chris, I don't want you to feel guilty, okay?"

"Do I have reason to?"

Tom shook his head. He shifted, and slipped off the counter, trying to get past Chris.

"No, Tom, wait." Chris held him by his hand. "Listen, I know I've... hogged everything this week. I want to do better."

"And the talk with Elsa?" Tom asked. "And the published pictures? And you struggling to be seen with me in public?"

Chris' nostrils flared. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't know!" Tom said, frustrated. "I... Every time this week that I told you what I wanted, and what was important to me, it made things worse. And you still have to deal with Liam, and talk to your lawyer, and figure out stuff with Elsa. I don't know what I could want that would actually be attainable, Chris."

"A single thing like being tied up when you ask for it?"

Tom shook his head. "That's not it. It's not about being tied up, Chris!"

"Then tell me what it is about," Chris insisted. "That's all I've been asking for."

"Just..." Tom snorted with frustration. "Forget it."

"No." Chris stood like a rock in his path. “Talk to me.”

“How?” Tom asked. “How, Chris?”

“I’m here.”

“And you have other things on your mind, and other things to deal with. Please deal with them. Tell me when you need me to help you, okay?”

“Tom, this is ridiculous; right now I need help dealing with you,” Chris said. “What’s going on? Why can’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“What’s going to happen when I tell you?” Tom asked. “What if you start feeling guilty again, Chris? What if what I want is too much for you to deal with? I don’t want to… I don’t want this week all over again. I just want a bit of quiet this weekend, _please_.”

Chris was stunned. “Playing with you in bed is not too much to deal with.”

“No.” Tom let out a frustrated snort and shook his head. “ _That_ isn’t.” Chris didn’t budge. Tom had never wished for India to interrupt so much in his life. “Chris, you’re in no condition to help me at the moment. Your life is so full of things that you need to take care of – and they do need taking care of.”

“And you don’t?”

“Hah.”

“Tom, this is why… no. No, I’ve said that too often.” Chris exhaled. He looked around and then sat on the edge of a kitchen chair. “Come here.” He patted his thigh.

“No, thank you.” Sitting on Chris’ knee was not what he wanted right now.

“Please sit down with me, at least?” Chris pleaded.

Reluctantly, Tom did as he was asked.

“Please talk to me.”

“There is nothing to say! I told you it’s okay that it didn’t work out last night. It really is.”

“I’m not okay with it not working out.”

“Then… Chris…” Tom sighed. “I don’t know what to say any more.”

“Tell me what you want.” Chris reached over the table and took his reluctant hand. “Tell me what _you_ want.”

“Which version do you want?” Tom asked, exasperated. “The Tuesday version, or last Saturday’s?”

Chris sat up, and took his hand away. “Oh.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Tom hastened to say. “Chris, you’re troubled right now, and… I understand. It took me a while, I admit that. I’m sorry I ran over you like that on Tuesday and just called Robert without asking you first if it was okay. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I really am.”

“I thought…” Chris said, suddenly unsure. “I thought we were okay. I thought it was okay.”

“It is,” Tom assured him. “I’m glad you’re tackling all these things. I’m glad you’re taking them at your own pace. I really am. I can see how good Michael is for you. I can see how things are changing for you, how hard you work, how you are changing. That’s all good.”

“But…?”

“There is no but,” Tom assured him.

"What am I paying this with?" Chris asked. "What are you?"

"Reality, I guess," Tom said. "A loss of innocence, for sure." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Come with me." Chris got up, grabbed his hand and pulled him into the living room, right over to the recliner, on which they tumbled into a pile of stupidly affectionate people.

Chris held him as Tom leaned against his shoulder, held him so tenderly and with so much love.

"I miss you," Tom finally said. "I miss you so much, Chris."

Chris' arm contracted around his back and he kissed his hair.

"I'm so upset about having to grow up," Tom said. "It's so pathetic."

"You are always first on my mind," Chris said. "Always."

"But you were right with everything," Tom said. "With everything."

"So were you. Hey." Chris' brow was furrowed when he made Tom look up. "Oh, and now I don't know what to say other than thank you?"

Tom sniffed and wiped his eyes. "For what...?"

"Not budging," Chris said. "Standing by me even when I don't know left from right."

"Thanks for not running away screaming over how stupid I've handled myself the last few days," Tom said self-deprecatingly. "From me being an insensitive asshole who only thought about himself."

Chris laughed quietly. "You know I don't see you like that at all, right?"

"Well, I do, and it's not a pretty picture," Tom admitted. He poked at Chris' chest. "That's what I hate most about you. And love most about you. I had this idea of myself as a fairly decent bloke and then... I'm not better at handling all of this than you are. We're just different kinds of stupid about it."

"You are handling it better," Chris said quietly. "You're handling me better."

"I yelled at you for an hour Tuesday night," Tom said. "For not being able to handle coming out. And that haunts me, it really does."

"You outed us to Iron Man," Chris said, and he sounded amused. "And then you dealt with Andrew for me."

"That was so insensitive of me. I should've just..."

"It was good. It was the right thing, Tom. I hated you that moment but the next day I bragged to Michael how cool what you'd done was."

"We drag each other kicking and screaming, huh?" Tom asked, starting to feel a little better.

"Apparently." Chris' eyes were so full of love.

"Can I admit something to you?"

"Sure." Chris shifted and got comfortable for the long haul.

"You scare me when you feel guilty about something," Tom said.

Chris just looked at him.

Tom sighed. "I don't want to be not honest about me just because I'm afraid of your reaction."

Chris shook his head, the pain in his eyes clearly visible.

"I was so upset when you started working on all of this with Michael," Tom said. "Confused and feeling left out and I didn't know why you were changing everything when we were already so happy."

A tear left Chris' eye and ran down his face. He did nothing about it.

"You've been working so hard," Tom said. "And I was no help." He reached up and wiped gently at the tear. "And then last night you come back to me after talking to Elsa... and now you're just sad, love."

Chris nodded.

"Are you not feeling guilty any more?"

"All the time," Chris croaked. "But I made the right decision when I left her for you."

It was like a whole mountain range lifted off Tom's heart. "Really?"

Chris nodded. "I'm sorry I left you in any doubt about that." He pulled Tom closer and kissed him, and then just rested his forehead against his. "So sorry."

"Wow." Suddenly, all the things that Chris had been talking about seemed attainable. Suddenly, buying a house together didn't seem so far off any more, not at all. Suddenly, knowing that Chris was very much intending on marrying him down the line seemed very much like an option. "Oh, wow. Wow."

"You're stuck with me now," Chris said self-deprecatingly. "For good. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Um, no?" Tom laughed softly.

"Even after everything?"

Tom just shook his head.

"It sometimes bothers me," Chris admitted. "I know what I'm doing to you when I'm on one of those guilt trips and it's killing me."

"But you went and did something about it," Tom said. "You decided it wasn't good enough and you went and looked for help. Ugh." He shook his head. "And I'm the idiot who was upset about you going. I feel really stupid about that now."

"Jealous. About me spending time with hot stud Michael," Chris teased him lightly.

"About him getting to spend time with you," Tom corrected him. "About him having insight into parts of you that I don't."

"He doesn't," Chris said. "Trust me, I'm making him work hard for what he's getting out of me. I go there and I know he's going to poke around where it hurts the most, and where I really don't want to go." He laughed. "I guess the reason why I keep talking about you there is because it reminds me how good my life is with you right now, and that I can go back to that, however nasty what Michael unearths is. Basically... knowing that when it's all over, you're still there, gives me the courage to look it in the eye." He fell quiet.

Tom studied him intently, trying to figure out where that feeling of abandonment came from. He'd loved, from the start, whenever Chris' thoughtful side had come out; when he'd shown that there was so much more to him than the easygoing Aussie beach bum that he liked to show off with other people. The way he was handling himself at the moment, going at really difficult aspects of his life with such determination, even if what came out at first was very hard to handle, was a side of Chris Tom had never expected to see. When he'd been impulsive and quick to anger; it had been frightening, but kind of understandable. Tom could relate to that, because obviously, he had trouble coping rationally with certain things, as well, he just expressed it differently. Where Chris got loud and angry, he just got quiet and defensive and walked away, shutting himself off, when it became too much.

"What are you thinking?"

"How you changing makes me realize that I have to start changing, too," Tom said. "And I hate the thought."

Chris didn't say anything, encouraging him to keep talking.

"Ah, difficult," Tom sighed.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Tom shot him a look. "Using all the techniques Michael is using on you, huh?"

Chris shrugged, but he smiled sadly at Tom, running his hand through his hair. "Not consciously."

"I know." Tom settled his head against the nook in Chris' shoulder, finding it easier to think when he wasn't directly looking at him. "You make me have to grow up," he said. "It was nice when you were just taking care of me."

"I'll always take care of you," Chris said.

"Yes, but suddenly, you were helpless. You didn't know where you were going. You were looking to me for guidance. You made me have to live up to that. Your belief in who I am and what I can do far surpasses my own. And when I have to take care of you, I can't be... can't be just small and have you protect me," Tom said. "And that hurts and feels like a great loss."

"It's better this way," Chris said. "Tom, it is. I've been... taking care of everyone... regardless of me... for as long as I can think. It's what my last relationship died of." His voice broke. "I don't want that for us."

"Me neither." Tom looked up again, searching Chris' eyes. "You are the wiser of the two of us, Chris. And the more courageous."

"I wouldn't really say that," Chris cautioned, a fond expression on his face. "I pretty much tried to have you protect me this week, too. Wanting to get lost in you so I didn't have to face what scared me."

"So we're both guilty, huh?"

"Pretty much." Chris cupped his neck and ran his thumb over his ear. "Ready now to tell me what you need when you want me to tie you up?"

Tom chuckled helplessly. "I hate Michael."

"Hm?" Chris didn't let up.

Tom remembered that he already knew he had to face this sometime, face his fears, his insecurities, and face it when things became really uncomfortable. "I guess it's what I just said," he mused. "Just being completely in your hands and knowing you would never do me any harm, Chris. Feeling your strength, the way you handle me, with so much grace, and with so much passion. Letting you completely overwhelm me, just being able to let go... not having to be in charge, not even of myself, for just a little while." He paused, not sure how to continue. "Does that make sense?"

"Yeah." Chris said, running his hand through Tom's hair. "A lot." And he turned on his side and drew Tom very close. "Come here."

"If we're both weak, Chris..."

"We'll support each other," Chris said. "You don't have to be invincible."

"There are so many things I still haven't figured out myself," Tom said. "So many things where I'm looking to you for guidance and strength."

"And I've just run out of steam," Chris said helplessly.

"It's weird when I'm used to us going a certain speed and keep going, and you aren't..."

"Feels like I've left you alone with everything."

"Yeah." Tom sighed. "Yeah." It felt so good to just talk with Chris about it, without being afraid of how he would react, without trying to nudge him one way or the other, without holding back for fear it would be too much for him to deal with. "I'm really, really sorry I got so upset with you..."

Chris looked at him, and then drew a breath, his expression half determined, half apologetic.

"I was just afraid I'd lose you," he said, and it sounded raw.

"You're not losing me," Tom said.

"I was really scared," Chris rasped. "That you didn't understand what I was doing and why."

It was Tom's turn to listen, and he did.

"Ever since Saturday... it is so weird when you're suddenly aware that there's a part of you you haven't listened to in... maybe ever... certainly in a long while, and... and if you're someone who usually jumps at making the people they love happy... to have to say no to something that I knew would make you happy... it was so hard you have no idea."

Tom thought back to that evening, to how he'd struggled with Chris not being by his side.

"That whole night was torture. I thought I'd be relieved but knowing you were there without me was really miserable," Chris said.

Tom remembered that Chris had cried every step of the way: telling him, sending him off, on the phone, when he came home. He sat up, his hand on Chris' belly, furrowing his brow.

"Hm?" Chris made, his hand on Tom's hip. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Please keep talking."

Chris shrugged. "That's basically it."

"You called your lawyer that night and the next day you told me you were thinking about marrying me when your divorce was through."

"Yeah." There was an expression of fear and caution fluttering across Chris' face.

Tom nudged him until he could sit between Chris' legs, his own resting alongside Chris' body. He took Chris' hands and kissed his palms, then just held them in his own. "You know what rocked me most that day... when you told me you wouldn't come it felt like I would die."

"I should've just come," Chris said.

Tom shook his head. "I thought I could never trust you again," he continued. "It was like my father promising to come to my plays and then he didn't because he was embarrassed."

"Oh." Chris blinked.

"Devaluing everything that I held dear and that brought me joy," Tom continued. "There's... a wound still open and it still hurts... and it'll hurt faster and deeper than anything else, because it's still all tender."

"And none of your other family was there to cheer you on, either," Chris said, recognition dawning on his face. "Oh Tom."

Tom shook his head. "You did what you needed to do," he said. "I understand that now."

"Doesn't excuse that I just left you alone with all that," Chris said. "Fuck."

Tom watched him closely, understanding suddenly that the main reason he was hardly ever this honest with Chris was that he really was afraid of Chris going into one of his guilty rants. They were making him feel much worse than just keeping things close to his chest, as he'd always done. But it kept undermining their relationship, kept causing all these subtle cracks that sometimes showed, and when they did, Chris went to the next grand gesture to patch them up. After offering to buy a house together and marrying him, Tom wondered, what else could he possibly top it with, what would actually be another thing he could pull out his sleeve to make up for a blunder?

"We had a bad case of either one of us desperate for different reasons," Tom said.

"But I kept piling it on during the week," Chris said. "It's taken us a week to talk like this because I was nose-deep in..." He gulped. "… in telling you how embarrassed I felt about being in public with you... god." He shook his head. "First I'm the cause of you losing half your family and then I'm telling you that sorry, I'm too scared to step up and make up for it." He blinked. "And make you reassure me that it's okay."

"You have a right to ask for my support when you're struggling," Tom said. "I don't fault you for that, and I don't hold it against you that you have to work your way through... okay, not being gay, but being in a relationship with me."

The expression on Chris' face was now approaching horror.

"But I understand that... my history is making me want to be reassured more than other people might," Tom said. "That Saturday night, I thought about that a lot. That having been abandoned... wow, I've never used that word for it." He blinked, surprised, and when he continued, his voice was more cautious. "Having been abandoned when I needed my parents most, and they were so busy with figuring out themselves... and then, trying to find someone to connect to and being punished for that... it's made me... more private. More cautious about expressing how I really feel. And... I think one of the things I love about you most, is... is that you want to know. Like... like you just did in the kitchen, you wanted to know how I feel, you kept going after me until you knew. Now we're here, talking like this, because of you.. that is the gift you keep giving me, letting me know that how I feel and what I think matters... to you." He felt the tears come up. "Ah, damn."

Chris reached up and wiped his tear away, which didn't help at all.

"I'm trying to reconcile all of that," Tom said. "Knowing I'm needy when it comes to affection. Knowing that the best part of my life is when you pay attention to me, it... I like me when you like me. And at the same time, knowing I was absolutely no use supporting you this past week. I don't want all the love and support to go one way in our relationship, you to me. But when you're not... when you don't find the time to listen to me and love me... fuck, this is so pathetic... But... that's so hard, Chris. I feel abandoned all over again, even though it's not your fault. You have every right to struggle and ask for my support. Every right."

"And when I tell you that I'm doing all of this for you, for us, that doesn't help?" Chris asked, obviously trying to understand.

Tom shook his head. "That's such an abstract idea... I understand it now, because things – you – are actually starting to change. It's weird, and... I think it'll take me a while to catch up, to be honest. Because it's something you're doing on your own and I'm not included. You keep telling me you talk about me in therapy all the time... also an abstract concept. I'm egotistical, I just want you to love me at the end of the day. To be there for me. To keep going after me until I feel all melty inside and want to tell you everything and anything... and then find that no matter what comes up, you still love me." He exhaled. "And then I realize I don't do the same for you."

"That has never once entered my mind," Chris said. "Not once. I don't feel abandoned by you at all. You make me feel absolutely safe with you... there is no moment I'm wondering whether you still love me. Except for the moments when I've been a big dunce and hurt you, and could absolutely understand if you decided that that's that and you're going to walk away. That is the main reason, one of the main reasons, why I'm taking all of this on, because I know that the only way I could get rid of you... make you love me less... is if I pushed you away, myself. I had to work on what kept hacking at you, I wanted to know why I do it. I want to stop because losing you would be..." He looked appalled. "I don't even want to think about it. No."

"But what on earth am I doing for you to feel that way?" Tom asked.

Chris laughed. "Have you seen yourself when you look at me?" he asked. "Obviously not. You're the most generous, loving, accepting person I know, Tom. Taking me and India in, battling through all of those old fears to be together with me – I've been there, I've seen what it cost you. What it still costs you, right now. Just so you can be with me. It makes me humble and I keep wanting to give you things when you brave through yet another struggle with me. When you take a deep breath and go, 'It's worth it' and take on yet another thing and yet another just because you love me so much."

"But I suck at dealing with all of this," Tom pointed out helplessly.

"Doesn't make you brave them any less," Chris said.

"But I see how hard you're struggling and how hard you're working on this, of course I won't back off," Tom said. "I may not always see the benefit of it right away, but if it's this important to you, of course I stick by you and do what I can to help."

Chris gave him a lovesick smile. "I couldn't love you more if I tried," he said softly. He touched Tom's heart, and then his own. "And I promise I'll keep looking for ways to show it to you."

Tom sighed, feeling just how he melted into a puddle at that puppy look. "I doesn't need much," he said bashfully. "I'm so super happy if you just find some time to pay attention to me and love me in a day. If you don't accept when I... I should really learn to manage this, myself."

"Hm?" Chris asked. "Don't accept when you...?"

"Go hiding," Tom said. "Pretend everything's okay when it's not."

"Are you really okay that I didn't get to tie you up last night?" Chris probed.

Tom laughed. "Yes."

"It's kind of like pinning you down so you can't escape and loving you to within an inch of your life, isn't it?" Chris said. "A little bit like what you just asked of me to do every day."

Tom blushed. "I hate talking about it out of context," he admitted.

"Hm." Chris raised an inquisitive brow at him, but he also grinned. It was one of the happiest expressions Tom had seen on him for the past seven days.

He leaned over his lover and rubbed their noses together. "Seeing you happy makes me happy," Tom confided. "I love you so damn much, Chris."

"Takes so little, doesn't it?" Chris asked fondly.

"It's a bit like writing a good story," Tom said. "Show, don't tell."

"Is that so?" Chris' hands cupped Tom's face, his thumbs stroking behind his ears.

Tom shivered pleasantly. "Uh-huh."

Chris shifted under him. "What kind of show did you have in mind?"

"Uh..." The hormone rush blocked all the receptors in his brain for a moment, but he didn't have to talk when Chris kissed him softly.

"Something like this?"

"Honestly, you just have to look at me," Tom confided. "Just hold me and look at me for a while."

"I think that can be arranged." Chris rolled them on their sides and tugged a blanket over them. He held Tom lightly in his arms, their legs meshed, his thumb stroking Tom's cheek bone. "Like that?"

Tom felt tears in his eyes. "Happy meter just maxed out," he said, his voice rough. "Just _ding_ , right through the roof."

"You need me to not hold back on how much I love you, either, don't you?" Chris asked him softly.

Tom nodded. His throat was too closed up to talk.

And he was happy when Chris just kept showing him, instead of telling him about it.


	22. Auto Self Destruct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris finds himself making the same mistakes all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,
> 
> I'm sorry. The story is kind of hitting home a bit too closely at the moment, so it's hard for me to talk about it. Which is why I'm a little short in the comments, and have such a hard time delivering chapters - I feel very self-conscious about what I write at this point and each time I post something I want to run and hide and take it all back.
> 
> Having been in therapy a few times (took a while for my therapists to catch on to what was really wrong with me, and then to find someone I actually trusted to work with), the realism many of you expressed liking so much is kind of a two-edged sword here. Therapy takes time, it's a not-pretty process that can - depending on what you're working on - mean it will upset everything: the way you look at yourself, the way you remember certain things, and certainly your relationship with friends and family. Everything is in a turmoil and it takes a while for you to figure out how you want to proceed, what feels okay to do, what you want to keep, what needs to be tossed.
> 
> What comes with it are the circular arguments, getting to the same point over and over again until you solve whatever is not working. Which is why Chris makes the same mistakes over and over again and reacts the same way over and over again. I apologize if that feels/ reads repetetive. It is, and yet each time he learns something he didn't know before, and each of those circular arguments is a stepping stone to greater understanding, even if it is frustrating and hard and feels like he isn't getting anywhere except maybe worse.
> 
> I know you all hate to see our favorite couple at odds. I know I do. I'm juggling several jobs, a few health problems and a very busy schedule all week, and on my days off, I sit down and hack and slay my way through this story here, often feeling more exhausted Sunday evening than I do Friday, when I get off work. I am yearning for it to get better as much as you do, if not more, believe me. But this story has a life of its own and wants to be told a certain way, and doesn't let me skip or lie, so here we are with what we have.
> 
> Thank you for coming back and trusting that I'll get this monster written. Sometimes that's the only thing that keeps me going back to face it all over again.
> 
> Much love,  
> justmeandmymuse

Chris held Tom, just looking at him, until Tom sighed, and relaxed.

"Better?" Chris asked gently.

"Yeah." Tom burrowed closer, his head against Chris' shoulder, his arm around Chris' middle, thumb stroking his ribs.

"Love you loads," Chris murmured into his hear. "So, so much."

"Love you, too." Tom nuzzled his chin and then went back to his original position, squeezing Chris' middle.

It was a time-out from reality, Chris knew. The reality that still lurked outside this small cocoon of love and protection. He only had to turn on his phone, or his laptop. They only had to step outside their flat and it was all over them. This, here, was where his strength lay. This, here, was the reason why he was fighting this fight, taking this battle on.

He ducked his head and sought Tom's mouth for a kiss. Luckily, Tom let him, shifting a little for better access. Chris took his time, his lips soft and pliant, to slowly explore Tom's mouth, inhale his soft sighs until they made way for equally soft whimpers, and the hand against his ribs started to claw into his back.

Half-leaning over Tom, Chris held him, kissing him intently, meticulously, deeply, completely concentrated on this one thing.

Tom began to move in his arms, his hand slipping under Chris' shirt, his body subtly straining against Chris'. Then his leg hooked behind Chris' knee and he pressed his erection against Chris' hip bone, causing a myriad of fireworks to go off all over Chris' body. Still, he kept up what he was doing, not changing a thing, just concentrating on Tom, making this one kiss his world. He could feel that Tom started to become desperate to escalate things, but he didn't change what he was doing, just slipped on top of Tom, pinning him down with his weight, and kept kissing him.

Tom's struggle was kind of cute; the legs he tried to sling around Chris' hips for better leverage were soon clamped between Chris' to hold him still while Chris went about his kissing, and Chris' dead weight made his hips moving up nearly moot.

Finally, Tom huffed, completely frustrated.

"Hey," Chris said, nudging his chin. "You're interrupting me loving you."

"Meh." Tom squirmed.

"Should I stop?"

"No," Tom pouted.

Chris raised a brow at him, patiently waiting for Tom to cave and tell him what to do next.

"You made your point," Tom finally said.

"I made a point?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you did." Tom sighed deeply. His body relaxed under Chris', and then, suddenly, he flipped Chris over, inadvertently throwing him off the recliner.

"Oops." Tom peered down at him lying on the floor, a little disoriented about what had just happened. "I must have misjudged that." Without much ado, he dropped on top of him, straddled his hips, and started tickling him.

"To-om..." Chris warned. "Tom, no."

Tom kept on tickling, so Chris had to catch his wrists and tried to buck him off. But the bugger was seated fast, so Chris had to catch his head and pull it close so he wouldn't hit it on any furniture before he rolled them both over and he was on top again.

Unfortunately, Tom had very quick hands and they were at Chris' sides faster than Chris could react. Tom pulled his shirt up and over the back of his head to disable him, and then cackled madly when he bucked him off and slithered out from under him.

"You little..." Chris was tremendously entertained but at the same time, he felt something dark creep up inside of him. Professions of eternal love notwithstanding, they obviously needed this just as much. He caught Tom's ankle just as he was about to slip away, and pulled the leg out from under him, putting him flat on his stomach.

Chris pounced and landed on top of his lover's back, finding himself grinding his erection against Tom's crack. Tom groaned and pushed back at him, his firm little behind pressing quite deliberately into Chris' groin.

"Fuck," Chris moaned. "Fuck fuck fuck." He was helpless when Tom got on all fours; the rush of sudden arousal making it impossible to think. It did not get better when Tom just reached back to pull his own pants down; Chris didn't even get that far. He clamped Tom's legs between his own, freed his raging hard-on and slipped it between Tom's thighs until he hit his perineum. Fully clothed, with just his cock out, he started to thrust, mewling and groaning. Tom's head was down between his arms, his fingers clawing helplessly into the carpet, his voice rising with each of Chris' thrusts: "Ah... ah... ah... ah... ah..."

Chris came, hard, between Tom's legs, feeling awful immediately about how things had escalated. This was not how he felt about Tom, this was not how he wanted them to...

But Tom laughed, breathlessly, and turned under Chris, falling bonelessly on his back, still in a state of full arousal, thighs covered in Chris' come. And Chris, quickly tucking himself away, found himself on all fours over Tom, pushing his shirt up and nuzzling his cock.

"Chris..." Tom sighed, his hand in Chris' hair. "Chris."

He took Tom in his mouth, closing his eyes, pictures of how Tom had made love to him this week going through his mind. How many times he'd given in to Chris' request to come inside of him, how he'd been so loving, so giving, completely tuned to Chris' needs, and how hard he'd taken Chris at another time when Chris had direly needed it, had needed to feel Tom's strength, had needed to feel that Tom could counter whatever was currently having Chris by the neck and shaking him to the core.

It had been too long since he'd done this, felt Tom's cock spring on his tongue, licked the pre-come out of his slit in a way that always, _always_ had Tom hiss and pull his hair, had his hand between his legs where his own come had made everything slippery and easy to access, gently massaging the base of his cock, searching and pressing until he'd found that spot that had Tom's hips shoot up, gasping.

"Don't stop... oh... Chris... please... please... please... don't... stop... _ooh_ ... Chris... oh god... _Chris..._ "

His come shot into Chris' mouth and he quickly needed to change his angle to catch it all, taking him as deep as he could so he could just keep swallowing, sucking, and taking the next load, and the next, until Tom whimpered and pulled away.

Chris bedded his head on Tom's naked stomach, his hand still between his legs, feeling Tom's fingers in his hair.

"I love you," Tom said groggily. "But god am I mad at you for leaving me alone with all this shit. For just disappearing from our relationship to deal with things no one asked you to mess with."

Chris chuckled darkly. "Not great to have to beg you for your support, either," he said. "When I'm always there for you no questions asked."

He looked up, Tom back down at him.

"You got used to me always putting you first, huh?"

"Yeah," Tom said insolently.

Chris chuckled and slid up, pulling Tom into a kiss.

"Ptooey." Tom pretended to be offended. "You taste like someone's come in your mouth."

"Brat," Chris said mildly.

" _Your_ brat," Tom corrected. "There's a difference."

They eyed each other.

"Where do we go from here?" Chris wanted to know.

"Shower?" Tom suggested.

"You know what I mean." Even now he couldn't do anything but pull Tom into a tight hug; he had to have him close, had to know he was there.

"There seems so little we have control over," Tom said. "While we wait for you to get your mojo back. I really am not trying to pile it on," he hastened to say. "I have no interest in pressuring you. But while you are still struggling – and god knows you have every reason to -, there seems little we can do."

"I don't want us to keep posting things on the baby board," Chris said. "I'm tired of going after her and keep being raked over the coals for it."

"Aaand the first suggestion is about Elsa again," Tom sighed. "What did I expect."

"God, you can be pretty harsh," Chris said. "You asked me what I can do. This I can do. Write that last post I promised her to write..."

"What post?"

"Stating that I want to share custody with her, that I want her to be part of India's life," Chris said.

Tom pushed away and pulled his pants up. "Good to hear that that's something you can do."

He got up and walked away towards the bedroom.

Chris wanted to get up and go after him, but then his jaw set and he refused to. Tom always got his way. Even the way he got him to have angry sex with him earlier had been entirely provoked by Tom – it had not been Chris' choice. None of it.

"You little manipulative shit." Chris growled, hitting the floor with the flat of his hand as he swung up. Just to defy Tom, he ignored the wet spot in his pants and went in search of his laptop. He heard the shower turning on, immediately giving him flashbacks to last night, when he'd... come after Tom. After having been a bitch to deal with that whole fucking week, tugging Tom here, tugging Tom there, begging him for support, being upset with Tom wanting a moment to himself, insisting that he needed therapy with Michael even though it cut their time together short, then letting Tom feel the brunt of his frustration over just that fact...

Was manipulating him the only way Tom could get what he wanted or needed?

He flashed back to Tuesday night, when Tom had made that passionate plea not to get sucked in by whatever his therapy set free, but to remember what they had, who they were, and where they were going. Tom kept telling him what he felt, what he needed. He kept telling him when he went off course, and Chris largely ignored it because his own feelings were so overwhelming.

He couldn't get up, go after Tom now, he really didn't feel like it. But neither did he feel like getting busy with Elsa's things right now, god, Tom was right, that was pathetic.

He put his laptop away and went back to the kitchen to do a particularly British thing, brew a pot of tea, waiting for Tom to come back. In a way, Tom had still not answered his initial question – what do you want, Tom? What do you want from me, from our lives together, what is supposed to be the next step?

Just love me, Tom had said. Why? Because all his other requests, from being tied up, to being more public, holding hands or being affectionate on set... all unattainable.

"Hey."

Chris started; he'd been so deep in thought. He turned around, and there was Tom, in the doorway, in his jeans, cardigan, and socks.

"Chris, I'm going to go out for a bit," Tom said quietly. "I could really use a good long walk and a bit of fresh air."

"Wait until India is awake, so we can come along?" Chris asked weakly.

"I just want to walk," Tom said. "This is not working." He pointed from Chris to himself and back. "Right now."

"That's what you always do," Chris said. "Walk away."

"Hah," Tom made. "Yeah." He shrugged. "See you in a bit. I'll be back by lunch, latest."

He disappeared from the doorway, and Chris didn't even think about not going after him. He just did, following him to the hallway.

"Tom, that's not what I meant. I meant... don't just walk off. Please don't just walk away."

Tom seemed undeterred. "India's still asleep, so that should give you a chance to write that post," he said.

"God, okay, that wasn't... it was just the first thing that came to mind."

"I know." Tom slipped into his shoes and started tying the laces. "It must be at the top of your list, then. Like I said earlier, I know you have a lot of things on your mind, so..." His voice got the slightest bit unsteady, but he caught himself. "I'll just get out of your way so you can do them. It's okay."

Panic threatened to close Chris' throat. Tom had spent the whole morning opening up about himself. Right now, he was all smooth surface, impenetrable.

"What do you want?" it burst out of him. "Tom, just tell me."

"Right now? Just to go for a walk on my own, so I can catch a clear thought," Tom said.

"Can you please talk to me?" Chris said. "Tell me what's going on?"

"We've been doing nothing but talk the whole morning. Because you wanted to. Right now I'm exhausted, I'm drained, and I'm hurt," Tom said. "Because it hasn't made a difference at all. Talking is my thing. It hasn't worked. I'm out of options and out of ideas right now."

"Tom, the kind of love that you crave... I'm not sure... I'm not sure I have that any more," Chris just said.

It was the first thing that seemed to get through to Tom.

"I'm... not your knight in shining armor," Chris said, his voice raw. "I'm here, but I'm really not perfect. I have my hang ups and I'll keep being stupid from time to time. Like right now. Like earlier, when the first thing that came to my mind was dealing with Elsa. Because really that's so much easier than dealing with you and me... because this, here, between you and me is complicated and precious and I can't lose it. Can't lose you. But you can't keep walking away."

"It sounded like you... you are preoccupied with other things," Tom said. "Please go take care of them. You're only ever preoccupied with me when you think you're losing me."

"You mean like when I took care of you for a whole weekend of you coming out to your parents?" Chris asked. "Was that so bad? Or when I was going out of my mind thinking I would lose my daughter and then rescued you from an auto stop and went on an impromptu holiday with you to find out why having her around was so difficult for you?"

Tom shook his head. "But you just said you don't have that kind of love any more."

"The kind of love where I can keep myself and my troubles out of our lives, no," Chris said. "The times where either one of us can pretend that we're the only ones on the planet and no one else matters." He took a step towards Tom. "You want me out there with you. I want you in here with me." He touched his chest.

He could see Tom swallow.

"I don't know how that is going to work," Tom said feebly. "I don't know how to make it work."

"One day at a time," Chris pleaded.

"Today's been awful so far. And we've been looking forward to having time for each other all week."

It was a tough statement to deal with.

"I don't want to have to argue a whole morning to make you pay attention to me," Tom said quietly. "Just to have you mocking me for needing you only a moment later."

"Tom..."

"I'm desperate for your attention," Tom said. "That's all I want."

They both heard the baby phone at the same time. "No, India, not right now..." Chris moaned.

"I'll see you later, Chris," Tom said, grabbing his jacket. He patted his jeans for his phone, and when he'd found it, shrugged on the jacket and pocketed the house keys and his wallet. "Bye."

And he was gone.

  


* * *

  


At first, Chris didn't have time to think about what had just happened. India was crying, and he hastened up the stairs to the nursery to see what was wrong with her.

A fairly poopy nappy change later, he took her downstairs for a snack, but his thoughts were with Tom. He made himself a sandwich while she took apart a sweet roll that Tom had introduced her to, and that she loved above all else. She looked around for him, asking for "Da! Da!", making Chris feel even worse.

"Your daddy has been an idiot," he told her, not wanting to use the crude word he really wanted to say.

"Da? Da?"

"He'll be back soon," he said. "Tom is going to be right back, India."

But Tom wasn't right back. The emptiness of the flat hung depressingly around him; knowing that Tom had left in anger, and not just to run an errand. Everything that he had thought was so super important shrank into nothingness when faced with the fact that Tom wasn't there to share it with him. He seriously tried to work up an enthusiasm to look at some of the things he'd been talking about, but it simply all fell flat.

Sensing that something was wrong, India was mewly and unhappy, adding to Chris' stress level. Nothing was right when Tom and he weren't okay. He felt lost when he wasn't around.

How exactly had he lived before the were together?

Right. He'd seamlessly switched from being a part of one couple into being a part of another. Had jumped right in. Had moved heaven and earth to be with the man who was now AWOL. And was now turning himself completely inside out to make sure that their relationship had a future, that he was up to it. And for some reason... for some reason all he was successful in doing was driving a wedge between himself and Tom.

_Just love me._

Why was that so hard?

Because it meant being open to feeling so lost, so hurt, so abandoned and lonely. It meant feeling vulnerable and scared. It meant putting himself in Tom's hands. All Tom was asking him to do was be real with him. Be here, be present with him. To actually feel what he was feeling, and share it with Tom. And he kept hacking at Tom – he knew he'd done it again, and quite cruelly so – because that kept him at a distance. Because he somehow tried to convince Tom of just how bad he really was. He was trying – again, it really was infuriating – for Tom to hit back, which he never did.

When he kept asking Tom for what he wanted, what had he expected? An easy fix, like tying him to the headboard? He'd wanted something, something he could do that wouldn't feel so insurmountable. Something that he could do that would show Tom that he still cared, that he was doing things for him. And hearing from Tom, over and over again, just how inefficient he was as a boyfriend at the moment, that Tom had lost faith... was losing faith...

Chris checked the time. Michael had Saturday office hours until noon. Should he just call and plead an emergency, ask for help? He knew what he was doing wrong, and why. He just couldn't find a way to get out of his own mess. Out of oscillating between being dependent and helpless with Tom and being a complete asshole who tried to keep him at arm's length, away from where it hurt. And feeling so overwhelmed when Tom kept asking him to be there for him when all he wanted was to lie down and weep.

What would happen if either one of them stopped jostling the other around?

Tom didn't jostle him, really. He just kept it all inside, kept his distance, tried to protect himself while Chris was so out of bounds. Chris wanted him to be like always, looking up to him and leaning on him for strength. He needed Tom to believe in him so he could believe in himself. And at the same time he did everything he could to let Tom know that he was not dependable, that he was too messed up to be trusted.

Heart beating in his throat, he dialed Michael's number. An answering machine came on. Chris growled with frustration, almost hanging up. It was half past eleven; Michael's official hours lasted until 12.

"Um, hello, Chris Hemsworth here," he heard himself say. "I was wondering if it was possible to call me back? I'm in a real mess right now and... and I've kind of hit the wall. I'm..." He blew out a breath. "I'm scared I'm... I think I'm..." He realized that it was all about Tom, again. "Can you call me back please? Thank you." He hung up, feeling like an idiot, wishing he could take it all back. But he had no better idea, and to come running to mum and dad this time was out of the question. He was a grown man, for Christ's sakes. He was behaving like...

"No no no no no. We're not going there." He shook his head at himself.

He picked up his phone again, opening the text message window. "Tom, I know you're upset with me. I'm upset with me. I'm sorry. Please... let me know where you are, at least?" His forefinger hovered over the send button, then just hit it. "I know I'm behaving like shit. I know me saying sorry doesn't mean a thing at this point." _Send._ "I love you and I want to be with you. Please believe me that this is always true, whatever crap I'm pulling. It's not personal, you're not doing anything wrong. I'm in a terrible place and don't know left from right." _Send._ "You don't deserve any of this."

He nearly jumped out of his seat when a message by Tom popped up. "Should I cancel tonight? We can't seem to stand being in a room together anyway."

"Do you want to?"

"What's the point?" The cursor hovered for a moment until the next bubble appeared. "I'm sick of being punished for being vulnerable with you." And then. "Maybe some time apart would be a good idea."

Chris stared at that message. He read it and read it again. He'd finally done it; pushed Tom long enough to finally be done with him, with this. It felt kind of good, appropriate. Maybe if he poked Tom long enough, he'd get him to break up with him, and then he'd finally get what he deserved.

It would be so easy; just type "Ok.". Or "Do you want me to move out?" Or simply, "If that's what you want." That one would be sufficiently cruel, and put the blame on Tom again, leaving him free to wallow.

Before he could react, a new bubble popped up. "Chris, you can be such an asshole when you think you deserve to be punished," Tom had typed. "I'm sick of you taking it out on me when you feel bad about yourself. I haven't hurt you. I'm just a convenient target. You're upset with your mum and dad, not with me." The lines kept coming and coming. "I understand that you're hurt. It doesn't give you license to take it out on me. There is a difference between working on it and taking it out on everyone else." A short pause. "I'm done with it." Now each line came separate, like thunderclaps. "Get your act together." _Boom._ "If wanting me at a distance was your goal, you've hit it." _Boom._ "I can't help you with this as long as you don't want to help yourself." _Boom._ "And right now, let's be honest here, all I want to do is kick your ass." _Boom._ "Which I believe was your entire point." _Boom._ "Congratulations." _Boom._ "You've done it." The cursor blinked, but no further message was forthcoming.

"I am caught in a net of my own making," Chris typed back. "And I need you to help me find a way out."

"No." It came immediately. "I refuse to keep enabling your abuse of yourself, and of me."

"What the fuck am I supposed to do, then?"

"Figure it out." It took a moment for the next message to appear. "I really don't care how you do it, but the next time you're treating me with anything but respect, we're done."

Chris blinked.. "Are you coming home?" he obfuscated.

"Have you read my last message?" Tom insisted.

"Yes."

"I'm canceling tonight. This is useless."

"No, please don't."

"Why the hell not?"

"Cause I believe in us and I don't want it to be over." Relief flooded over Chris when he realized he meant exactly what he had typed. Suddenly, it was easy. He turned off the app, and dialed Tom's number. Thankfully, Tom picked up. "Tom, tell me one thing I can do that is right," Chris said. "Because my judgment sucks right now and I'm all over the place. One thing. One little thing that I can do."

"You've been trying that on me all day," Tom said, exasperated. "I honestly don't care." And he hung up on him again.

  


* * *

  


Michael called five to twelve. Chris was frantic.

"Your call sounded urgent," Michael said. "However, I only have fifteen minutes to spare; I need to be at another appointment soon. Can it wait until Monday?"

"I don't think it can," Chris sobbed, now genuinely frightened and scared. "I'm about to lose Tom."

"You can survive that," Michael said, brutally calm.

"I don't want to lose him."

"That's something we might be able to work on," Michael allowed.

"But I think I've worked all day on getting him so disgusted with me that he will leave," Chris said.

"Then maybe that's something that needs to happen," his therapist said calmly.

"I somehow thought you'd be more helpful," Chris complained.

Michael laughed. "Here is what therapy is," he said. "I can help you find out what's wrong. I can offer you different tools to fix the situation, if you want to. But I can't make you do anything, and I can't fix it for you. The success or failure of this is completely in your hands."

"This is not encouraging at all!" Chris protested. "I feel like I'm slipping up with every step I take!"

"Good," Michael said. "When the old coping mechanisms fail, it's a sign you're going in the right direction. My guess is, having met you, that you're going to keep trying them until either they are truly and genuinely broken, or you are."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because the other way lies everything you're afraid of and that you have spent most of your life avoiding."

"Like what...?"

"Like identifying as gay in a jock culture," Michael said calmly.

"I'm not gay," Chris said. "I'm just in love with Tom."

"Okay," Michael said in a tone that told Chris that he didn't believe a word of it.

"What else?" Chris asked, wanting to know exactly what else he had to prove Michael wrong about.

"Facing Liam," Michael said. "Giving him the proper place in your life."

Chris grumbled; there was not much to argue about there.

"Speaking to your parents about how you felt when all of that happened," Michael said calmly.

"Tom says I'm taking it out on him to avoid talking to them."

"So you're actively working on getting rid of the one person you identified as feeling completely safe with," Michael mused. "What self-fulfilling prophecy are you hankering to make come true?"

"I don't deserve to be happy," Chris just said.

"There we are."

"If Tom is far away enough I can't hurt him when I self destruct," Chris said.

"What an egotistical thing to say. What a coward's way out of facing what is really wrong."

"Do they allow you to say these things when they hand out the license?" Chris asked suspiciously.

Michael just laughed. "You called me," he pointed out. "And I'm trying to do what I can in the fifteen minutes that we have."

"Michael, I'm really scared," Chris finally broke down. "I'm overwhelmed and overtaxed. I'm trying to understand what's going on, but things happen so quickly that I can hardly keep up. Tom misses me in the relationship. I want to be there but I don't know how. What we're talking about in therapy is taking over my life and I don't know how to stop it. I know I need to face all of this. I do know that. And I am willing to take it on, I am honestly doing what I can as fast as I can. But I can't seem to be able to stop. It's taking over everything, it's undermining my relationship, my work, my life. I want to be in therapy and take this on, but if it's making me unable to have a relationship with Tom, or my daughter, or my family – I don't know how to deal with that. And I feel that I'm in too far to be able to pull out now. No. I don't want to. I want to see this through, but I feel it's all slipping out of my hands and there might be nothing left by the time I'm done."

"Boundaries," Michael said. When Chris didn't respond, he asked: "Do you know what I mean by that?"

"I'm not sure."

"Therapy is a good thing, but it's meant to help you live your life, not take it over," Michael said. "It's perfectly all right to pick and choose a window of time each day to work on it, and then tell yourself it's enough for the day and put it away."

"How do I put it away?"

"It depends on what works for you. Some people give themselves appointments, a time window in a certain room, go on a walk, sit down and write about it, something like that. It helps to have a routine, a moment of closure, like coming home, closing a door behind them, closing the document they've worked on."

"That's kind of neat."

"The thing is to create a routine for yourself, to be in charge of your own boundaries."

Chris squirmed. "I think I'm not good at that. I like for someone else to tell me what to do."

"And how is that working out for you?" Michael asked.

"Eh." Terrible, terrible, terrible, that's what that was.

"I'd like you to try one other thing, Chris," Michael said. "Kind of like homework. You get to tell me how it worked on Monday."

"Okay."

"Each time things start to get uncomfortable for you, I want you to imagine a big red STOP sign in your head."

"Oh."

"Leave the situation, describe what happened on a blank piece of paper. Lock the paper away somewhere – an envelope, an old shoe box, something you can firmly close when you're done. Then bring the envelope with the paper slips with you to our next session, and we'll look at them together."

That seemed doable. Moreover, if Michael looked at them with him, he wouldn't be alone, wouldn't feel so out of control. "Yeah," Chris said. "I think I can do that."

"I'm very sorry I will have to run out on you," Michael said. "Does that help tide you over until Monday?"

"I think it will," Chris said.

"If it doesn't, let me give you a few names and numbers of places you can call when it gets too much. There are help lines available, and they're staffed 24/7. It's completely anonymous, if you're worried about that. Don't hesitate to call. That's what they're there for."

"Tom's already jealous of me talking with you," Chris sighed. "That is not going to go down well with him."

"Uh-uh," Michael said. "Boundaries. You're in charge of your own well-being. You're in charge of making sure you're doing all right."

"Okay." Chris exhaled. "I really feel much better. Thank you so much for making time to talk to me."

"I'll send off that mail with contact numbers before I leave," Michael said. "And we'll see each other on Monday afternoon."


	23. Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After clashing once more with Chris over his abusive behavior, Tom needs to come to a decision about the future of their relationship.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but after just five minutes outside, Tom already regretted that he had left. In his haste, he had forgotten his cap, shawl, and gloves, and it was simply frigid out, brisk walking notwithstanding. A quick pat down of his pockets also revealed that his headphones were where he had left them, on the hook by the door. Running out of your own flat and not wanting to go back because the person you had invited to live in there with you was behaving like an ass was a stupid way to try and solve problems. He didn't want to face Chris, so he couldn't go back to his own home to get the things he needed. Pretty annoyed with himself and how the morning had gone, Tom turned to the busy shopping mile not far from his home and quickly got himself the few things he had forgotten at home. Thus bundled up, he decided that a second breakfast was probably a good idea – as Chris had noticed quite a few times, he didn't think well on a sugar deficit.

He'd just sat down to enjoy his latte and tart when his phone buzzed, and it was Chris. He was instantly annoyed again; too many things had been said, too many words had simply lost their meaning because he'd heard them too often, and had then be burned again, when the deeds didn't fit. By the time they were finished yelling at each other – this time by phone – Tom's latte had gone cold and he needed a fresh one. The tart was good but he nearly choked on it, trying to suppress his tears. He felt even worse when he turned to the streets this time, and didn't much think about where to go, he just walked.

The thing was, he admitted to himself wryly, that he was stupidly, hopelessly in love. What Chris had said, before Tom had left, that he wasn't the knight in shining armor, that he was flawed and just human, it wasn't as if Tom was blind to that. But Chris would always be his hero, regardless. He would always look up to him. He was looking up to him now, even though he wanted to kick him to kingdom come, because he recognized quite well what a momentous task Chris had taken on, how courageous he was for facing what had quite likely tortured him all his life. Tom was quite able to discern between loving the man and hating a certain behavior. He just wasn't sure that Chris could, at this point.

He pulled up his collar and adjusted his shawl, hiding his chin in the wool. He had the headphones in so he could pretend not to hear should someone call on him across the street, but the music was off, leaving him alone with his steps, the cold air, and his own thoughts.

In his own heart, he knew that he'd already said yes to be Chris' husband for the rest of his life. He was in, hook, line, and sinker, had been from the moment he'd come out to Chris' parents by telling them he was in, for better or for worse. He'd loved before, but never like this, so all encompassing and complete it was taking his breath away. If someone was leaving, it would have to be Chris, because Tom didn't want anyone else. And from what he could discern, Chris didn't want anyone else, either. Ironically, the fact that Chris trusted him enough to dare be not just flawed but desperate and upset, and even unfair and unkind, assured Tom much more that Chris was going to stick around than all the flowery promises he kept making. He was crazy making and idiotic and beautiful and a complete dunce and Tom loved him to pieces and always would, no matter how things would turn out down the line.

But how much was he willing to give up to be with him? Certainly not his self-respect, nor his self-worth. And he needed Chris' attention like he needed air, and not having it hurt like hell. Seeing Chris' eyes rest lovingly on him made Tom bloom like a flower in warm sunshine. It was pathetic, but that was the way it was. And each time Chris was occupied with something else, it was as if the whole man disappeared from their relationship. Like someone had turned off a light, and Tom felt like nothing but a set piece on Chris' grand staging of his own personal melodrama, where nothing else existed but Chris' own pain. And considering the size of the monumental task that he had taken on this time, it would stay that way for quite a while. And who knew what was next; Tom doubted very much, for example, that the divorce from Elsa would go without a hitch. Or that no one would make stupid remarks about them being together. Or that sharing custody of India wouldn't be a serious point of contention. Trouble would come, whether they asked for it or not. But if things continued as they were, Tom wasn't going to be around to see it.

It made him stop short, that realization that yes, he had indeed a point of no return with Chris. He'd been there to witness this kind of thing three times now, and he knew quite well that he wasn't up to dealing with it another time. Not by trying to support Chris, not by giving it any attention any more. If Chris insisted on self destructing, he had to get out of the way or he would be hurt.

That left a very long distance relationship if Chris didn't get a hold of it. Or none, if Tom wanted to escape with any of his self-worth intact. And neither option appealed particularly to Tom because dammit, he loved that man, and he wanted to be with him. For better of for worse, that's what he'd said. And that's what he'd meant, even if he had no idea then just how hard worse would be.

As Tom trudged along the street, deep in thought, he drifted a bit to the right on the sidewalk and only noticed the church he'd almost passed when he stood right in front of the gate. Craving a bit of green, he pushed through, fully intent on walking the adjoining grounds for a bit. Instead, he found himself testing the double doors. His heart thudded in his chest when they opened.

It was dark in the vestibule, the row of low lights and candles inside too far away to light it much. Tom took the earbuds out and turned his phone off so it wouldn't ring and disturb anyone, and then pushed inside.

Tom had basically grown up in Henry VI's College Chapel in Eton. This small church must have been built around the same time; the architecture so reminiscent of his boyhood years. And instead of feeling depressed by the memories, he felt uplifted. In church, no one had made fun of him. He'd been part of the choir, and often come early or stayed late to help; the quiet atmosphere calming him down and centering him when things around him got too much.

He felt quite the same now, instantly comforted and uplifted, as if someone had told him that he was not alone, that someone was there to listen.

There were a few people visiting, sitting in the pews, and an older woman was refreshing the flowers for service. Not wanting to be noticed, Tom followed the sign that said "Prayer Chapel" and found a smaller room to the left. Chairs were grouped around a small altar, and on a stand, there were candles burning. Tom found a seat and sat down. His eyes first lifted to the plain golden cross above the altar as if to greet it, and then just rested on his hands.

"I'm here," he prayed, feeling that that was enough. After all the talk, the arguing, the fruitless amount of words, just being here in silence felt like a great blessing. "And I have no idea what to do."

 _But I know what I don't want, and I'm so tired. So tired of putting myself out there all the time. It's okay when I get Chris' sunshine back for it... no it's not._ But the fear of losing what he had; the desire of wanting more of how wonderful and delicious everything about and with Chris was, being so drunk on how happy he made him, he didn't want to let that go. And then he remembered that that happiness had soured, had turned into a daily struggle that only gave him what he needed occasionally, and always at a great cost. He yearned so much for his flat back for a moment that he nearly choked.

It was no wonder he could not think clearly because he was never alone. If he wasn't with Chris, he was caring for India. And as long as things were good and Chris listened to him and helped him, that worked. But when Chris was walking all over him, no place was safe and he was so tired of giving in to everyone else's needs. Tired of clocking his day to India's schedule and giving up every moment of his day to the work on his relationship with Chris. Beyond that, he was still someone, someone with needs; and most of all with the need to close a door behind him every now and then without having to defend himself for that.

He'd made so much room for Chris and India in his life that there was none left for himself.

It was a chilling realization, because there was no ready solution. The flat was not made for privacy; closing a door anywhere but the guest toilet was a futile endeavor. India had taken over his office and his living room, and Chris was everywhere he was. Short of both of them moving out, there was no way he could carve out a space of his own.

Unless he made his needs known. Unless he said clearly what he wanted and needed and stuck with it. Was that what Chris had asked him to do?

Completely unbidden, Fiona's words came back to him. About therapy, and how it changed people. How their changed behavior changed the behavior of those around them. How you either went with the flow or you might be out of the game.

In hindsight, her insistence that he'd support Chris no matter what made him angry. It had been her job, and she'd failed Chris, and now she tried to get him to stand in for her. But that's not who he was, and not what he wanted. He wanted to be Chris' friend and lover, not stand in for his mother or father.

The thought made him still.

He lifted his eyes to the stained glass window, resplendent in color at the rare December sun hitting it.

 _We've been enabling each other_ , he thought, and his heart was so heavy it threatened to close his throat. All those hopes and dreams of being in a relationship where everything just fit, and everyone lived happily ever after, they were fairy tales.

He didn't want to be someone who would switch out of a relationship into another because it seemed easier. He was fairly sure Chris wasn't someone like that; the idiot had switched out of a placid relationship into a powder keg. They'd sought each other out for a purpose. They'd been like two missiles meeting in a cataclysmic explosion.

Which was fine, except... He was wringing his hands, because facing this was so hard. He'd found in Chris what he'd been looking for all his life, someone to protect him. Someone to listen to him, take him seriously. Someone he could talk with about all the little insecurities and fears, be reassured and accepted. With every thought, his inner turmoil became more intense. The reason he was so, so upset about all of this was because Chris asked to be protected in return. Wanted the same kind of attention to his fears, wanted to be soothed and told that things would be okay. Wanted Tom to arrange a space for him that he could work this out in.

And, plain and simple, it was something Tom could not do.

Chris’ belief in him notwithstanding, the drama made him sick. He’d tried to tell Chris that he was not suited to this kind of thing, but Chris had wiped it away.

He was not suited to this kind of thing. He never would be. Either Chris tuned it down, or he had to leave.

The thought was incredibly painful, but it did come with a bit of relief. Because it meant handing the responsibility for his behavior back to Chris. If Chris felt he needed to destroy himself to start over, then that was what had to happen. If Chris really loved him, if this was what was destined to happen between them, if they were truly meant for each other, Chris would find his way back to him.

And if not – he hardly dared think it. But he had to. He had to think this through to the end. It would mean he’d figured out that he was most likely gay. He’d already come out to his whole family, so that couldn’t get any worse. He was – as unlikely as this had seemed in the beginning of their relationship – ready to live it, and reasonably comfortable with the thought. Sanna had already asked to come by on Christmas, and if all else failed, he was comfortable with spending a day in Oxford with his father.

And as for filming; the shoot would only be two more weeks before Christmas, and two weeks after, of which he wasn't even needed every day. They'd survived trying to hide their relationship. He supposed they would survive play-acting through being okay with each other.

The loss, though... the loss nearly choked him.

 

* * *

 

The sense of impending doom became worse and worse the closer Tom got to home. He'd walked a little more and stopped at a falafel stand for a snack, just to rule out that he was making decisions based on low blood sugar. He'd walked, to practice his words as he would when he was going in for an audition. He'd sought contemplation and guidance from being quiet and listening to himself. He wasn't going to get more centered than that.

Taking a deep breath, he took the stairs to his flat two-by-two and unlocked the door. It was his flat, after all. There the keys went into the bowl by the door, and the surplus shawl, cap and gloves into the top drawer of the dresser. He was just shrugging out of his jacket when the door to the living room was pulled open and Chris appeared.

"Oh my god, _where were you_?!"

"Uh..."

"I've been trying to reach you for hours," Chris said. "I even called Luke to see if you went there."

"Um..."

"He had no idea what was going on. I was afraid..."

"Chris, I just went for a walk," Tom defended himself. "Hi honey, I'm home...?"

"Have you looked at the time?"

To his defense, he hadn't. "Um, no?"

Chris just looked at him, and without preamble, pulled him into a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay."

It was unfair. _Un_ fair. For a moment, it seemed as if everything was as it was supposed to be. But Tom managed to step out of the embrace and finished getting out of his jacket, putting it up on the wardrobe while Chris stood awkwardly by.

When he was finished, he walked past Chris and into the living room. Then he stood rooted and completely stupefied.

"I didn't want to go out in case you came back," Chris said apologetically. "But I had to do something, the panic was killing me." Then, unsure. "If you don't like it, of course I can take it all off again."

"Where's India?" Tom asked, too dumbfounded to comment.

"I just put her down. She was completely knackered after helping me with all of this. This one is her favorite." Chris walked by Tom and pointed at a chain of fairy lights that he had mounted to the potted plant above India's play rug. "It..."

"...blinks in different colors, I know."

"I hope you don't mind me turning this into a Christmas palm tree. I didn't dare go out to get a proper fir."

"Oh, Chris." Not only was the whole living room spotless, the pillows standing like soldiers on the sofa, the blankets straightened out, the carpet clearly freshly hoovered – you could still see the stripes where he'd gone against the grain -, it also looked as if Father Christmas had thrown up on it.

Tom loved Christmas; he had more ornaments, baubles, fairy lights, wreaths and assorted knick-knacks than anyone else he knew. Christmas was only once a year, after all, and if it was up to him, you had to make it count. Each year he chose a theme, and he looked forward to shopping for it all year. With everything going on this year, he just hadn't found the time yet. And for some reason, Chris had actually managed to make it look as tasteful as possible with what he'd undoubtedly unearthed in the attic, a while-yellow-blue theme throughout that actually looked rather nice. Even though, of course, it was completely overdone. It was, he hated to admit that, basically exactly the way Tom loved it. Apparently, Chris felt about Christmas the same way he did.

"India's already down?"

"It's a quarter to four. You've been gone four hours," Chris said. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"Yeah, I... stopped by a falafel stand on my way back." Tom was still dumbfounded. "I turned my phone off in church so I wouldn't disturb anyone." He made eye contact with Chris. "I forgot to turn it back on."

Chris relaxed marginally, giving him a tentative smile. "Okay."

They looked at each other. This wasn't going as planned at all. Chris wasn't the monster he had grown into in Tom's upset mind; he'd been worried, and he'd turned his panic into all this beauty. He had called Luke to see if he was there. He was asking him if he'd eaten. Chris cared about him.

Trying to keep his composure, Tom deliberately looked at the recliner, where today's betrayal had taken place. Where he'd begged to be loved, and Chris had turned it into a travesty. Where the only way they could connect was by having angry, upset sex on the floor.

Tom turned and walked into the kitchen, in dire need of a cup of tea.

The kitchen was comically clean; India's bottles parading along the wall on the counter top by the sink. Even the coffee maker, notoriously covered in coffee spots that they not always cared to wipe every time they had a cup, was gleaming in the low light. There were Christmas napkins and candles on the table, and bows on the overhead cupboards. Chris apparently also had found the Christmas magnets and put them on the fridge.

"Is the bedroom also twinkling?" Tom asked, hearing Chris come in after him.

"Um, no." Unsure, Chris hovered by the door. "Tom... can you please... next time this happens, can you let me know where you are?"

"Chris, next time this happens, you're out of here," Tom said calmly. "There isn't going to be a next time."

"Oh...kay..."

When Tom turned around, he could see that Chris had sat down on the bench by the back wall, the wall where they had made love when... He shook his head. If he started that, he would never end; everything in this flat was covered in memories with Chris. He got out a mug and put a tea bag in, then filled it with boiling water. He didn't ask if Chris wanted one, as well.

He quickly got some milk from the fridge and sat down with his mug, opposite Chris at the table, concentrating on adding some sugar and stirring his tea. Chris sat uneasy, with his hands between his knees, looking at him.

"I fucked up."

"Yes."

"Can I ask what exactly..."

Tom gave him a look. "Are you serious?"

"My judgment is shot," Chris said quietly.

"You spent the whole morning asking me what I wanted. When I said it wasn't much, I just wanted to be loved, you..." His stomach turned. "You held me and kissed me in a way that made me feel like you were letting me know how completely ridiculous my request was."

"You threw me off the recliner."

"God knows you didn't deserve better." Tom blew out a breath. "What you did was inconsiderate and unkind, Chris. You first made me believe that you cared, begging me to open up to you... and when I did, you mocked my needs. It fucking hurt."

"My judgment is off," Chris repeated, then covered his face with his hands. "My judgment is..."

Faced with a truly rattled Chris, the whole speech Tom had prepared on his way over here threatened to crumble. It crumbled until nothing was left of it but the two of them in his kitchen, Tom stirring, Chris with his face in his hands; two men who loved each other deeply, yet felt like a chasm had opened between them.

"We can't keep doing this," Tom said. "I can't."

Chris' head shot up. It was clear he was waiting for Tom to deliver the final blow.

Tom didn't say anything. He removed the tea bag and put it aside, then kept stirring. The truth was, sitting here, in his kitchen, with Chris, it wasn't as easy to just go through with his speech.

"Will you believe me," Chris said. "That when I got up this morning, truly, all I wanted was to make the day good for you."

"That kind of derailed, though, didn't it?" Tom said. "It's the fact that even you can't control yourself that really frightens me, Chris. I know I can't. And I'm going to stop trying."

"What... are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I can't help you with this," Tom said. "I can't. It's too much, Chris. It's destroying you, it's destroying me, it's destroying our relationship."

"So there... we... we still have one?"

"Is that all you just heard?" But Tom's voice betrayed him. It wasn't reproachful, or hurt. It sounded understanding and compassionate.

Chris shrugged, but he looked so hopeful.

"Chris..." Tom rested his forehead in his hand to win a moment to think. "I have no idea how I can reach you. You're wonderful and understanding one minute, and completely out of control the next."

"I know," Chris said quietly.

"And I can't take it. I can't. It's killing me. I don't want to come home and be afraid."

"No." Chris swallowed. "I'm scaring myself."

"Good," Tom said, and he heard himself sounding encouraging.

"I'm so used to going at things head-on," Chris said. "I work until I have what I want."

"That's how you got me," Tom said. "And honestly, I do feel a little duped, Chris."

Chris shifted on the bench, not looking at him.

"I know you say you're doing it for us, but right now... it's destroying what we have," Tom said.

"I'm doing it for myself," Chris said. "I know. I mean... being with you started it, but..." Now he looked up at him. "I... want... you. Us. You do give me the courage to take it on." He blew out a breath and shook his head.

"I'm tempted to kick you out just to make you stop," Tom said. "I'm that desperate, Chris. If me being encouraging is having this effect...."

"Yeah. Please. Please be honest."

"No, Chris. _You_ 've got to check yourself. _You_ need to realize when it's too much and tune it down. I can't... I really... If it happens again, honestly. No. I've watched you do this several times and I can't take it any more."

"And if I can't change it?" Chris asked, a little more belligerent now. "If this is just how I deal?"

"Then it ends here," Tom said. Calmly, quietly. But he really wanted to puke.

"Ooof." Chris visibly deflated. "I'll need a moment." He got up and walked out.

Tom got out his phone, called the hotel and canceled.

He had no idea what would happen next, but this was not a night for oily massages and sharing a jacuzzi.


	24. Reset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this is only a short one 'cause I've been so busy. Still hope you'll enjoy it and thanks for the fabulous feedback and discussions of the last two. You guys rock. <3

Tom got up to start a cup of coffee, and while it was percolating, got himself a few sweet biscuits from the pantry. Contrary to what he thought it would be like to talk to Chris about this, he was really calm now, centered, focused. Just the long wander around and the cold air was starting to take its toll, and, he thought wryly, probably the adrenaline beginning to flush out of his system. If he didn't have some coffee now he would probably fall asleep sitting up sometime soon.

Tom was nursing his second cup by the time Chris came back. He wordlessly sat down on the bench, looking equal parts confused and determined.

Tom pushed the chocolate covered biscuits towards him, and Chris took one without thinking, and bit off a good bite.

"Coffee?" Tom asked.

Chris nodded mutely, and Tom got up to fix him one.

"You know," Chris said to his turned back. "I've just spent ten minutes trying to prove how you're completely wrong. How much I hate it when you just walk out on me, and how I hate it even more when we have an argument and you tell me that you could throw me out any time, as if I was just some visitor you could get rid of when I'm not convenient any more."

Tom's hackles rose at the words and he was suddenly wide awake again. If this was how Chris wanted to play it, fine.

"You know those vows we made to each other?" he said calmly, though what he wanted to do was jump over the table and smack Chris for behaving like such an ass.

"Yeah?"

"You saying you'll always be back for more? You getting all worked up about me trying to claim some space for myself? Because that's all that is; since it's my flat, and we can't get out of each other's way in here, what am I supposed to do? Either I walk out or you walk out." He turned around. "When you're in that mood, where you lash out at me because something's eating away at you, your vow sounds like a threat. You refusing to budge is a threat. You are frightening me, Chris. I'm not letting someone stay in my flat who I'm afraid of."

Chris stared at him. Then he abruptly got up and walked out again.

Tom sighed. He waited for Chris' cup to finish percolating and then carried it over to the table and set it down where Chris was probably going to reappear sooner or later.

It was now a quarter past four and he was so tired. The whole day had been nothing but this. India was bound to be awake again soon. In less than two hours, Luke and Steve would come over, bounding with excitement over getting to spend the evening with the baby, while all Tom wanted to do was lie down and sleep. For about a year, yeah, that sounded about the appropriate amount of time.

Chris' cup was still steaming by the time he returned.

"Two things," he said, sounding determined. "Before I dig myself in any deeper. I never, ever mean to hurt you."

"Yet you do," Tom said calmly.

"Please let me finish this set or I've got to get up and go again," Chris said. "Just as an explanation, not an excuse. I grew up in a household with two brothers and we basically raised each other without much adult supervision for quite a few years. This was how we coped."

Tom thought back to the many tales the three of them had laughingly related to him in the three years that they'd known each other; about how neighboring kids weren't allowed to come back because they would usually leave bruised and bloody, how they'd stalked and pranked each other, how Liam had chased Chris around the house with a bat; how Luke would hide behind the hen house and shoot pellets at Chris. Basically, he started to realize, Chris had been the one most picked on, possibly because of his gentle, forgiving nature.

"Okay," he allowed.

"So when I start doing this, I guess it's because I've always done it that way, and people would just swat back at me, and we'd get in a row, and then the air cleared and we were best buds again."

"This is so not how I cope," Tom said. "You just scare me to pieces when you lash out like that."

"I realize that now," Chris said. "But when you tell me I'm going to be out of here the next time this happens, it has me really afraid. Because it's so second nature to me that I don't know if I can stop myself in time."

"You're out of here the next time it happens," Tom stated clearly. "There is no 'getting used to the rules' exception. It's not the first time it's happened; we've already had one absolutely _horrid_ weekend where I did nothing but trying to snap you out of it, and it got worse by the minute. I'm never going there again."

"When was that?"

"When Elsa came back and you two got into counseling," Tom said. "I'm tired of already anticipating that shit is going to go down when something comes up on the horizon that will put you under pressure. So far, I've been right every time. You used up all your chances, Chris. If you're not sure you can keep yourself in check when you're upset, please move out right now."

He saw Chris' nostrils flare, but he stayed seated.

"Then you can come over when things are okay for you, and just stay away when they're not."

"Does that mean you're leaving me completely alone with..." Chris stopped, and frowned. He was quiet for a moment, thinking hard.

Tom suspected he'd wanted to say something really hurtful, and was now revising it in his head. Worse things could happen. He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced because it had gone cold.

Chris got up and left again.

Tom used the break for a trip to the bathroom. When he returned to the kitchen, Chris was already there, nervously sipping his coffee. Tom slid back into his seat.

They just sat there for a while, and no one said anything.

"I don't want to leave," Chris finally said. "I want to be where you are."

"Okay."

"But I feel like the sorcerer's apprentice right now," Chris said.

"I'd imagine."

"I thought..." Chris sighed. "When you just said that I should only come in when I feel good, that made me really upset."

Tom nodded.

"It felt like you were leaving me alone with everything. If I don't know that you have my back... god, everything immediately clashed over my head just thinking about dealing with it on my own. It felt like I was drowning. I bit off way more than I can chew, way more than I can work with at the same time."

"That's why you were clinging to me by the middle of the week, instead of checking yourself," Tom said. "Fact is, it's too much even for the both of us to carry, Chris. Your crisis has taken over your life, and you're upset that I'm trying to get myself to a safe distance where it's not going to take over mine, as well."

"I was... thinking that I now had someone who would share the bad times with me," Chris said. "Help me, when it gets too much."

"I will always be there for you, but not at the expense of myself," Tom said. God, it felt so good to take a clear stance. "I'm no use to you, also drowning."

His world view started to realign. His earlier desperate attempts to find something meaningful for himself in the ordeal were now revealing themselves as him being completely overtaxed with what was asked of him.

"All I want is to make a life with you," Chris said. "It seems like I'm doing everything so it won't happen right now."

Tom, unfortunately, couldn't disagree.

"I think I'm making you the problem so I don't have to deal with all the other shit that's piling on."

"You mean all the other shit that you have caused?" Tom clarified.

"But it's so much easier to accuse you of not being supportive!" Chris lamented.

"No doubt." Tom found he started being a bit amused by what Chris was saying. "Can I say something that I will probably regret again right away?"

"Please," Chris pleaded. "It would be so nice to have company in that corner."

"Chris... maybe we should really think about taking a break," Tom said.

"No."

"Hear me out, please." His stomach was sinking even as he was saying it. "We jumped into this feet first, and it's been a roller coaster ride ever since. Mostly lovely. But the dark bits have started to take over lately, and it's got harder and harder to even connect. I honestly think some time apart to sort things out would be a good idea. Take your time to deal with all the stuff that's come up in therapy; take your time to deal with Elsa and the divorce, and don't feel like I keep hurrying you to come out, when you are obviously struggling with that a lot. You haven't grieved a day, Chris."

Chris just sat, his eyes fixed on the table top, his hands gripping the edge of the bench. "Is that what you want?" he asked.

"I think what we've been doing doesn't work any more," Tom said. "I think we need to figure out what will if we want to stay together." He sat up, straining his hearing. "I think I'm hearing India," he said.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to bring the baby phone, stupid of me."

"It's okay," Tom said. "I'll get her. I haven't seen her all day."

"Tom?" Chris asked, just as he was passing him.

"Hm?"

"I may get into trouble for this question, but what's the difference between me asking you for help with my family, and you doing the same?"

"Hm." Tom stopped, leaning against the table. "I don't remember ever asking, to be honest," he said. "Or am I remembering it wrong?" He thought back to that fateful weekend; Evie spitting hatred at him, his mother ranting at him on the phone, twice, the horrible revelations about why and how his father had sent him to Eton.

"But that's not what I want for us, either," Chris said. "If you are troubled, I want you to come to me."

"Maybe when I feel like I'm not adding to yours," Tom said. "Hm?" He couldn't help it, he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Chris' brow. "I'll be right back."

 

* * *

 

Chris sat, unmoving, as Tom scaled the creaking steps to the gallery, and then entered the nursery. Chris knew he would take his time, greet India properly, change and dress her, cuddle her and talk to her, before coming down and facing him again.

He couldn't fault him for that; this day had been a wash from start to finish.

Chris slowly got up to start some water for India's fennel tea, which she loved to have after waking up, and a good pot of Earl Grey, which, he had learned lately, cured most common ills. He should also wonder what to offer Steve and Luke when they came over in... oh god, not even ninety minutes. Or were they even still going? He'd forgotten to ask.

India's bottle was ready to be consumed by the time Tom and her came downstairs, and Chris had found a couple of biscuits that she liked. Chris sat down with them, filled new cups with tea for him and Tom, and watched Tom cradle his daughter gently and with so much joy as he gave her the bottle.

"I've thought about what you said," Chris said.

"And?"

"I love the life we make together," Chris said. "I don't want to waste a moment of it by being somewhere else but here with you." He could clearly see the pain and doubt in Tom's eyes. "I want to make a deal with you, though," he added.

"What kind of deal?" Tom sounded wary.

"Give me this week to clean up my act," Chris said. "If by next Sunday you're saying you can't live with it, with me, I'm going to move out."

"It doesn't change that I'm not letting you lash out at me again, Chris."

Damn, Tom was tough. "You said you think I need to deal with all these things. I do. Let me find a way that isn't going to take over our lives."

"Chris, you're lovely with making promises of a brighter future," Tom said. "What I need is you existing here, with me, and learning to handle when it doesn't all come up roses, all the time." He rocked India, and kissed her forehead, and India reached out to him to touch his cheek and then smiled around her nipple. "I missed you, too, little girl," Tom said fondly.

"Can we... at least talk about how that could work?" Chris asked. "Possibly?"

"I'll need more time to myself," Tom said immediately. "It was one of the things that kept going round and round in my head as I was walking, that I have hardly a moment to think. I want to start running again more. I'm definitely going to, tomorrow morning."

"I've been looking forward to waking up with you," Chris said.

Tom gave him a look.

Chris sighed. "Okay. What else?"

"The RAD Actor's League is meeting tomorrow. I'd like to go; I haven't seen my mates in ages."

"Without me?" Chris squeaked, then cleared his throat.

"I didn't think you would want to come, seeing as it would put you in a bind again about coming out," Tom said. "I'm so not introducing you as 'my roommate'. I'm drawing a line right there."

"That's a lot of line drawing," Chris complained. "What am I supposed to do while you're gone?"

"Chris, I don't know. But when we talked earlier it seemed there was a lot on your mind regarding Elsa and the divorce and how to handle it all. I'm not telling you what to do, but I'm getting a bit tired of having our time constantly invaded by everything else that's going through your mind. Maybe giving you some time to deal with it on your own and figure stuff out for yourself isn't the worst of ideas?"

Chris felt like pouting and kicking something, to be honest. Leaving him alone to deal with things, _pffft_. He'd much rather... and he realized he'd counted on working off his bad mood on Tom, get him to react and distract him from something he really didn't want to do. "This sucks."

Tom shrugged.

"I have no idea how to deal with what's going to come up when you're not there," he admitted truthfully.

"All the more reason I got out of the way of it," Tom said. "I have a feeling that the only way is through."

 

* * *

 

Tom took India to the living room after her snack, and left Chris to prepare a simple cold tea for when Steve and Luke would come. Apparently, that plan had not changed, but Tom had canceled the hotel, and the massages and the jacuzzi. Chris was amazed he wanted to spend the evening with him at all, to be honest. But like Tom had said, it was hard to go out of each other's way in this flat, and canceling on Luke and Steve would probably mean having to explain why. Neither option was particularly appealing.

He had a sudden idea, and put away the salad he was working on for a moment to go back to the living room.

"Tom," he said. "Since we're having tea at home with Luke and Steve, would you like to go indoor climbing tonight before dinner?"

Tom, who was lying on the floor, playing with India, turned on his back. "That's not the worst idea I've ever heard."

"I have a place in mind I would call," Chris said. "If that's okay with you?"

"If you pack our bags, sure." Tom yawned. "I think I'm going to fall asleep sometime soon."

"Go to bed," Chris allowed. "I can finish the salad when Luke and Steve are here. India can help me set the table."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Tom rolled up immediately and crossed over to Chris.

"Thank you," he said, and quickly kissed him on the cheek. "I promise I'll be more bearable once I've had a nap."

Chris watched him disappear into the bedroom and close the door behind him.

Maybe there was still hope for them after all.


	25. Rebuild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprising phone call is helping Chris to get his priorities in order.

Chris took out his phone to look up the gym's phone number and immediately realized his mistake. The screen showed multiple notices of phone calls and messages missed. He'd completely forgotten – or rather, had tried to forget – that Liam had been trying to get a hold of him since shortly after Tom came home. He'd turned off the phone, because Tom threatening to throw him out unless he got a hold of himself was a way more immediate threat than his brother calling to have a "How are you doing?" brotherly chat with him. He'd denied the call and that was that.

And now his phone showed him that Liam had not sent him one, but four messages while the phone had been off. So it was urgent.

 _Oh, god._ Chris stood, feeling incredibly defeated. The buoyant feeling of having done something right, and finally having some clear instructions from Tom as to what was expected of him, made way for despair. For just one moment, he'd felt so tender towards Tom, had wanted to crawl into bed with him and... He shook his head. The likelihood that Tom would accept any kind of tenderness from him at the moment was minimal. And maybe it was better this way, while Chris was still trying to figure himself out. Tom was better protected like that.

He thumbed the message icon and skimmed Liam's messages to determine the level of urgency involved. Immediately, cold fear crawled up his neck and closed his throat.

_Miley's talked to Elsa 'bout XMas._

_She said you cheated on her? With a GUY?_

_WTF bro?_

_CALL ME, ASSHOLE._

No. No no no no. No. This was making a not good, very bad day a lot... very much... hugely worse.

India called for him, feeling lonely, and he walked over to her, dropping to her side and nuzzling her belly. Predictably, she grabbed his hair with both hands and pulled with glee, and he let her, his heart and mind racing.

No no no no no.

He wasn't ready.

Tom wasn't here to help. Chris was fairly sure that if he knocked on that bedroom door now and told him what was going on, Tom would try to help and be there for him... but it would be the straw that broke the camel's back. The one time too many that he would put his own problems before Tom's, before Tom, before them.

"Baby girl," he said, muffled by India's fluffy overall, "Your dad messed up big deal."

She kicked his chest, pulling harder.

"Go ahead, hurt me," he whined facetiously. "I haven't deserved any better."

India giggled and kept going.

Right. That was probably the only approach to take. Laugh about himself.

Chris slowly, under much tickling of tiny feet, playful growling, and shaking of head, got his hair loose and sat up, India ensconced in his crossed leg. He whipped out his phone and took a deep breath, having to hold it out of India's reach. When she started crying because he didn't give it to her, he scooted on his butt over to her play area to get her the toy phone Elsa had bought her just before she had left. It was bright, colorful, and chewable.

"There," he said. "Just like Dad, huh? Look, punching buttons here." He pressed one of the buttons on her phone and it squeaked. India looked excitedly at him and then tried it, herself.

"Okay, India, write: 'Dad loves Tom very much. Tom loves Dad back. I love Tom, too. Kissies, India."

She furrowed her little baby brow seriously while making uncoordinated stabs at the toy phone, making him smile.

"That's my girl."

_I'm gay, Liam. Stop acting like a baby and deal with it._

He stared at the words, not daring to punch the "Send" button. He wasn't gay. He just... He sighed. This was so futile. Trying to explain this intricate thing to his upset little brother would yield nothing. "Gay" he would understand. For the first time, it dawned on him that the term may yield some measure of protection to him in certain conversations. Someone else had fought that battle before him; he was following in the footsteps of thousands who'd walked that road, most of them with a heart just as heavy as his.

He pressed "Send", then tried not to die from mortification.

"Uh-oh," he said to India. "This is bad, honey, very, very bad."

 _When you're uncomfortable, get out of the situation_ , Michael had said. But what did you do when you were confronted, and couldn't walk away?

Liam's message back arrived with a little "bling!".

_WTF since when?_

_Since I fell in love with Tom,_ Chris typed back. This was better than yelling at each other.

Predictably, though, his phone rang right after.

It was Liam.

He picked up.

"Before you say anything," he said. "I'm alone with India in my lap and if you make her cry, I'm gonna make you cry."

A moment of stunned silence. "What the hell?" Liam said on the other end, and he sounded very confused. "Chris, what the hell?"

Chris didn't know what to say. Surprisingly, hearing Liam's voice felt really good. Like home, like something he knew how to deal with.

"Are you gonna say anything?" Liam challenged him.

"What do you want to know?" He was so tired of defending himself.

"What happened, dammit?" It sounded honestly curious, and there was another note in Liam's voice. Hurt.

"What I wrote," Chris said. "I fell in love with Tom."

"And you just... I mean... Elsa and all?"

"Yes," Chris said. "Elsa and all."

"Bro, she's mad as hell," Liam said. "Better watch out."

Chris blinked. "I'd be mad as hell if I was her," he said. "I can kind of see where she's coming from."

Liam laughed. "Leave it to you to take her side," he said. "She said some really mean things about you, though. Been fighting all breakfast over it with Miley. Of course she took Elsa's side. I said, wait until I've talked to Chris, stop dissing my big brother." He exhaled. "Why didn't you tell me, man?"

"Buttsex jokes," Chris croaked.

"What?"

"Didn't want to hear the buttsex jokes."

"Ew, man!" Liam sounded grossed out.

Chris laughed. It was so good to talk to Liam and just be honest with him.

"Okay, maybe I would tease you with that. Down the line. Sometime. Jesus Christ, Chris. Do the parents know?"

"Yep," Chris said, rocking India still ensconced in his right leg. "First ones I called."

"Luke?"

He had to fess up. "Yeah," he said uncomfortably.

"What, everyone knew but me? Fuck Chris, that's fucked up! Why not me?"

 _You were too important, you idiot._ Chris sniffed. "Dunno."

"Did you think I'd go off on you or what?"

"Kinda."

"You're such an idiot."

"Watch what you're saying," Chris said mildly.

"As if I cared about that," Liam scoffed. "You lying to me, that's lame."

"Yeah." Chris exhaled. "It is."

"So... um..." Liam cleared his throat. "You coming? For Christmas?"

"I was planning to," Chris said. "Looks like I'll bring India, too."

"Elsa said you had her."

"Yeah, yeah, while Elsa's in a film, you know."

"And... and Tom?"

"Eh, yeah. I was planning on bringing him, too."

"Cool." He could hear Liam's barely repressed delight. "That's gonna be cool."

"Think so?"

"Yeah. He's, like... you know... really cool."

"I know," Chris said. He was so relieved and so thankful and exhausted and jubilant and wanted to kick his own ass really hard. "I kinda noticed."

"So... he's gonna be around more, then?"

"That was the plan."

"Cool."

"You said."

"So that's the story? Fell in love, that's it?"

"Yup."

"Figuring out what to tell Miley," Liam said. "I hate it when she goes off like that."

Liam was protective of him. Oh, god.

"She can go off in my face," Chris said."If she dares." One more wouldn't make a difference at this point.

"I can handle her," Liam said. "I just wanted to know what was going on. I felt really stupid being the last to know."

"It hit me like a hammer," Chris admitted. "That I was with the wrong person. There isn't much more to say, other than that. When it's the right person, you know. When you can't stop trying to make them laugh, and you're happiest when they're around, that kind of gives it away. When they want to make you happy back, that's the best thing."

"So are you happy?" Liam wanted to know. "Now, I mean?"

"When I'm not acting like a complete asshole around him, yeah."

"So that hasn't changed," Liam teased.

"No." Chris laughed self-deprecatingly. "Whatever is going wrong is my fault."

"If anyone says anything funny about it, send them to me," Liam said.

"Okay." Chris sniffed. "Will do that."

"I mean it, bro."

"I'll send them to my little brother, got it."

"Are we okay?"

"We're okay."

"Tell Tom I said hi," Liam said. "Call you later?"

"Um, we'll be out tonight," Chris said. "Tomorrow, though?"

"Okay."

"'kay. Talk to you soon then."

"Bye."

"Bye."

 

* * *

 

The aftermath of the call left Chris shaking, and then, crying with relief. It had gone so well. Liam hadn't hacked at him, in fact, he'd... he'd been at Chris' side. Completely. Loyally. There was no questioning his motives, or reminding him of Elsa's feelings, and no, absolutely no stupid remarks about him being with Tom in the first place. Liam had been hurt and confused why he'd been left out. And all he'd wanted to know were the facts so he could better defend him against his girlfriend's and Elsa's accusations. And to top it all off, he seemed to be really excited about Tom becoming a part of the family, and being around more.

Chris cried so hard that India almost started to cry with him, cuddling up to his shoulder and touching his face while making concerned noises.

"It's okay, little girl," he said. "Happy tears. All is good, India." He cuddled her close, feeling so overwhelmed, and so grateful at the same time. All he wanted right now was to spend the rest of the day in a tight group hug with his little family and just know that everyone was there who mattered to him – but of course that wasn't possible; he'd thoroughly botched any chance of that happening earlier today.

Gradually, the tears subsided, leaving him hollow and exhausted, and so incredibly tired. He'd shaken every foundation of his life, every single one. His family, his marriage. Tom. He'd turned himself upside down and inside out, as if he couldn't stop once he'd started. As if it was something so important that he had to keep going until it was done.

He sat on the floor with India in a room he'd decorated for hours today, and he wondered how he could ever rise from this. Why he'd felt he had to destroy everything he held dear to him – because he didn't feel worthy of happiness, and maybe, if Liam had hacked at him, he'd feel validated. But no one wanted to hack at him. Even Tom didn't. No one wanted to punish him the way he felt he deserved, had felt to for years.

He'd have to talk with his mother eventually, with his father. He had to have that conversation; they all had to, because it had never been talked about again in their family, and that just wasn't enough. There were so many skeletons in that particular closet. Maybe the others didn't know it yet, but they all needed healing. They all needed a good cry about everything that had happened, which they all had – luckily – survived. Then maybe he could stop trying to live in a mythical future where everything came up roses instead of this moment, which so often turned out so very painful. Maybe then he would learn how to be here, with Tom, every imperfectly perfect moment at a time.

But it would take time.

He sniffed, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, then his eyes with his sleeve. This day, too, would end. He wasn't going to give up on this, on Tom. On finding happiness. If he couldn't bear being happy then maybe being right here in the trenches with Tom, in the here and now, was exactly what he needed. Where life did hurt every now and then. Where you had to go against the grain to have something, to get something. All that stupid luck he'd been having, everything falling into his lap. That wasn't him, that's why it had all felt so unreal, like he needed to put a halt to it, get out of that. And then habit had taken over and he'd just kept on doing the same with Tom, because he thought that Tom wanted that, like Elsa. And he couldn't bear losing him again.

He just couldn't.

He needed, wanted to be real with himself and with Tom. He could dare it. He had to. He had to give it a try, after all these many years.

India cuddled into his arm and sucked on her thumb, glad that he'd stopped crying and scaring her so.

"It's all life," he told her. "Okay, India? It's okay to cry sometimes when life is really hard and kicks your butt. We all do it."

"Da?" She asked.

"Do you want to help me in the kitchen, hm?" He kissed the top of her head. "Or stay here and play?"

It turned out she wanted to be near him, but was happy to stay in the bouncer, watching him, and playing with the various kitchen things he felt were safe for her to play with. He went through the motions of preparing the salad and dressing, and putting both back into the fridge to keep, then started to arrange cheeses and meats with condiments on plates. He set the table and prepared some fruit as accompaniment to the cheeses, then set two bottles of white wine to cool. When he was finished, the table looked inviting and homely.

He started another pot of tea, suddenly missing Tom with a vengeance, not sure when his boyfriend wanted to be awake. It was a quarter to six, and Luke and Steve would soon arrive.

"Come here, honey," he said to India and took her on his arm. "Let's see if your Da Da wants to wake up, hm?"

 

* * *

 

He could see right away that Tom must have cried himself to sleep. His face was red and blotchy, lashes crusted, and he was curled up on his side of the bed, Chris' pillow tightly in his arms.

Chris only left the door open for light, leaving India in her day bed, and padded over to Tom's side of the bed, where he sat down on its edge.

"Tom?" he said gently, brushing some of the sweaty hair out of his face. "It's a quarter to six, do you want to get up?"

"You didn't come after me," Tom complained, his eyes still closed.

"To bed?" Chris asked.

Tom nodded.

"Should I have?"

Tom shrugged.

"Hey." He couldn't tell him that Liam called, so he hadn't had a chance to act on his first tender impulse to follow Tom. It would mean he'd once again put someone else before him. "I was thinking about it," he confessed, "But you were really angry with me, Tom. And asked for some time apart, didn't you?"

Finally, Tom opened his eyes. He studied Chris quietly, then reached out and touched his face. "You cried, too."

"Yeah." Chris' heart sank. Now he really couldn't tell Tom that Liam had called, and that had been his reason for crying, not his fight with Tom. He realized, with a very heavy heart, how invisible Tom must feel against all the different things that governed Chris' emotional life at the moment. Chris slipped off the bed and sank on his knees. He caught Tom's hand and placed a kiss on its palm, then just held it against his cheek, closing his eyes. Tom was his cornerstone. Everything he did was because of Tom, and so he could stay with him. But for some reason, he'd forgotten to take account of Tom as a real person with needs, and had instead replaced him with this ideal in his mind, this glorious figure that couldn't do any wrong. He still thought Tom couldn't do any wrong, he thought wryly. He still thought Tom was perfect just the way he was.

"Chris?"

"Afraid to say the wrong thing," Chris said, and sniffed. "Very afraid to lose you." He felt Tom's other hand brush through his hair, and immediately, the tears wanted to come up again. "I know I'm doing everything wrong at the moment," he said. "I'm so sorry about that."

"You're not doing everything wrong," Tom said. "I know you do care for me. And all those Christmas ornaments, Chris..." He shook his head. "Completely overboard. Unfortunately, exactly how I love it."

"I just didn't know what to do."

"I miss you."

Now they were both crying, great.

Chris just threw the last shreds of hold on his life overboard. "Tom," he begged under tears. "Can you love me when I'm broken?"

"Yes," he heard Tom say very softly. "But can you allow it without lashing out at me when I get to the spots where it hurts?"

"I want to," Chris said. "I want to learn how. But I'm so afraid I'm going to make a mistake and you're gone."

"The rules don't change," Tom said mildly. "You're way past your third strike."

"Okay." Chris sniffed. "Thank you."

"For being a hardass?" Tom asked, shaking his head.

"For sticking by me," Chris said. Without thinking, he leaned over Tom and kissed him. He didn't linger, so maybe Tom was too surprised to realize he didn't want him to. But then Tom pulled him down and kissed him again, and that felt so wonderfully, impossibly good that Chris cried even more.

Then the doorbell rang, and they had to stop.

 

* * *

 

Both sighed with relief when they slipped into the cab an hour later. Chris gave the driver the address of the gym, and they sagged in their seats at the wonderful silence, at last.

"You okay?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, yeah." Chris sighed.

"Luke's a bit enthusiastic about that coming out thing; I apologize," Tom said.

"Not your fault," Chris said.

"I'll talk to him. I've done it before, but that conference Friday night with Andrea seems to only have encouraged him," Tom said. "I'm going to let him know to let it rest until the new year. Would that help?"

"Why the new year?" Chris asked.

"Because if I told him it wasn't a topic at all at this point he would start lecturing me again about whether you take this seriously, and if I'm in the right hands or not," Tom said honestly. "And I'm not ready to have that discussion again."

"You've had it before?"

"Last Saturday, yeah." Tom looked at him frankly. "Luke was concerned about what was going on."

"What did you say?"

"I said nothing; I sat outside smoking during the whole intermission and he came after me to see how I was doing."

"You were smoking?" Chris asked, scandalized.

Tom shrugged. "I didn't feel very good."

Chris fell quiet.

"I'm sorry," Tom said. "Seems everything we talk about is a powder keg at the moment."

"Not your fault," Chris repeated. He sighed, and looked out the window into the cold December night.

They'd been rushing around once the doorbell had rung. Chris had let them in, and while Steve and Luke came up the stairs, had dived into the guest bathroom and thrown some cold water in his face, at least. Tom had joined everyone in the kitchen fifteen minutes later, after a steaming hot shower. He'd smelled so delicious that Chris had had trouble keeping his hormones in check. Fighting obviously didn't diminish his attraction to Tom in the least. He was now wondering if packing tight-fitting speedos for both of them had been a good idea. He'd been concerned about people looking up their boxer legs and getting them tangled in the lines, not whether or not he'd climb with a hard-on.

"You know what," Tom interrupted his thought process. "You're right, it isn't my fault. I'm just so tired of all this negativity between us, so I keep reassuring you it's okay."

"Hm?" It took Chris a moment to get back into the conversation.

"That Luke might be overwhelming with his enthusiasm. Would you mind letting him know that you're uncomfortable with it, yourself?" Tom asked him. "Then maybe he won't come after me all the time."

"He isn't overwhelming," Chris said. "It's kind of neat to see him be so positive about it."

"It is?" Tom shifted to look at him.

Chris shrugged. "Everyone who supports this is an asset, aren't they? And they're both friends. At least I think of them as friends. I'd be more concerned if he kept cautioning us to break it off."

Tom turned around to him fully and mustered him head to toe.

"I still want to come out with you," Chris said. "That hasn't changed a bit. If they think of ways of how to do it with the least impact to our careers and image, that's a good thing. I have no objections about it."

"But you wished you could control the when and how?"

"Don't you?"

"Hm." Tom inclined his head. "Yeah."

"I've bit off more than I can chew at the moment," Chris said. "It doesn't mean I don't want to finish what I've started."

"Bite by bite?" Tom asked.

"I think I'm halfway through the cake." Chris sighed. He was quiet for a moment. "Listen," he said, then fell quiet again.

"I'm listening?" Tom replied, unwittingly repeating one of his Loki lines in _The Avengers_.

Chris rolled his eyes at him, which made Tom smile. For a just a moment, everything was okay and they connected.

Chris reached out a hand to him. Tom threw a look a their driver's back, then at Chris' face. They were riding an open cab tonight; a look in the rear view mirror would easily reveal what they were doing.

But Chris beckoned him, and Tom took his hand, feeling so relieved about being able to hold it without Chris freaking out. They looked at each other, Chris' blue eyes so loving; his thumb brushing over the back of Tom's hand.

"I know I've taken your support for granted," Chris said quietly. "Just sapped everything as if there was no end to it."

"I wish there wasn't," Tom said with true regret.

"I never get tired of telling you that you're the most important thing to me in all of this," Chris said. "But I've done a really bad job at showing you. I thought the right way was getting everything perfect before inviting you in – getting everything straightened out before... before taking this on. I wanted to get all the bad things out of the way so I could then concentrate on making a life with you. Give you my undivided attention then."

"And now?" Tom wanted to know.

"I've started everything," Chris said. "I can't back out now." He furrowed his brow. "And I think I've botched asking you for help so thoroughly..."

"How?"

Chris furrowed his brow at him. "You're tough."

Tom shook his head and let Chris' hand go. Their fingertips were still almost touching. "It's not like I know everything," he said quietly. "I don't have the great game plan in my head. I just know that what's been going on the past one, two weeks absolutely didn't work. But it's not like I don't question my role in it. It always takes two to tango. It's when I can't see where we could've gone differently that I start to worry." He looked at Chris. "That's why I ask you how you think you've botched up asking for my help. I want to know what you see that I don't."

The urge to reach over and pull Tom into a hug was almost overwhelming. Chris hoped that urge showed in his eyes, made up a little for all the times he'd fucked up this week. He wondered, despondently, where this part of him that loved Tom so deeply and all-encompassing, disappeared to when he got into one of his moods where all he wanted to do was strike out at Tom to get him to hurt him back. He made a mental note to ask Michael when he saw him on Monday.

"Chris?"

"I'm sorry." He smiled apologetically. "Gone off on a tangent in my head."

"You think you've botched asking for my help..?"

"Theorizing," Chris said.

"That's fine; it's all I do."

He had to go for broke on this one, he realized. "I think..." He furrowed his brow. This wasn't easy. "I'm not sure yet," he had to admit. "But... by the time I asked you for help I'd... thoroughly lost the ground under my feet. I was in free fall. Maybe that's too much to ask anyone to help with."

"What does Michael do when you are like that?"

"Set me straight." Chris picked at non-existing lint on his jean-covered knee.

"How?"

"Tells me what's what," Chris said. This was really uncomfortable. "He tells me when I screw up, in so many words."

"What does he say?"

"Please don't take your pointers from Michael," it burst out of Chris. "He doesn't love me like you do."

That made Tom laugh. "I would hope not," he said. "Still, my approach doesn't seem to be working very well."

Chris kept picking at this jeans. He'd told himself to be more real with Tom, but it was so hard. He wanted his presence to be enough to assure Tom that everything would be okay. Obviously, he'd botched that, too.

"Chris."

"I'm thinking," Chris said defensively. "I'm trying to find an answer."

"Okay."

So that had been too much again already. "I talked to Michael today, after you left," he admitted, feeling terrified of talking about it. "I was afraid you wouldn't come back. He said if I was in an uncomfortable situation, to get up and get out of it, write down what bothered me about it and keep it in an envelope to bring to therapy next time I see him."

"Is that why you got up so many times while we talked this afternoon?" Tom asked.

Chris nodded tightly. He was becoming very agitated and decided to verbalize it. "I feel really uncomfortable talking about this," he said. "I'm so happy we're talking, but I don't feel comfortable with where it's going."

"Can you tell me why?" Tom asked softly. "I just want to understand you, Chris."

"Maybe because everything connected with Michael and therapy is still so out of control," Chris said. "Everything that's going on there.. I don't feel ready to drag it into our life. It's all still so... raw. I can talk about it with Michael because he... knows how to snap me out of it. He knows how to handle me, he's not afraid of whatever I dish out. But when I transfer it to our life, that changes. You're not my therapist, you're my partner. You're not Michael, you don't have the training, and you get scared when I get loud. I don't think one mixes well with the other."

Tom was quiet for a long time.

"I'm not trying to keep you from a part that you should know," Chris said quietly. "I just only brought up calling him because he had another suggestion; that I should imagine a big STOP sign in my head when I started to feel uncomfortable. And maybe that would work... for us. That I tell you when it's getting uncomfortable, and you do the same to me. Just... kind of a safe word. Maybe then... it's just a theory, but... I think we sometimes get so caught up in trying to make the other person happy that we forget that we're people with needs, too. And then go far beyond what we can take to make happen what we hope will happen. When we do that a lot, and the reward doesn't come, it gets frustrating and we're unhappy. I know I was unhappy when I didn't get the support from you that I wanted. Maybe if I'd realized much earlier that I was already uncomfortable with how fast we worked in therapy, I wouldn't have let it come that far. That's all." When Tom didn't say anything, he added: "And maybe if I'd told you right away that I didn't feel comfortable with being your date last Saturday, instead of trying so hard to make it possible for you, you wouldn't have been so disappointed that I wasn't coming."

"And maybe if I hadn't tried to accommodate you this afternoon when you desperately wanted to make me happy, but had trusted that it didn't feel right, it wouldn't have come that far," Tom said tonelessly.

"It's unforgivable what I did," Chris said, nearly choking on his words. "I wasn't up for what I wanted to do for you, but I should've just said. I felt so horrible for leaving you alone all this time while I was so busy with other things. I worried all night how to make it up to you. I never intended it to end up the way it has. Never, ever."

"Thank you for saying that." He could see that Tom's eyes were already swimming again. "We're just people. With limits. How fucking frustrating is that."

He so wished he could just wave Tom over and hold him for the rest of the ride, it hurt. "I miss you, too," Chris said. "I don't want this for us, none of it. I am so frustrated with myself, that I can't move quicker, feel better about everything sooner, solve my problems faster. Trust me, if I could do it for you, I would, Tom. I would."

"Back at thosestupid limits, are we." Tom scratched his fingernails at the seat's surface in an unconscious gesture of frustration. "I love you so damn much, Chris." Then he hid his mouth with his hand. "I'm sorry."

Enough already. This was unbearable. Chris reached over, loosening Tom's seat belt and patted the middle seat. In front, a light went on and a pinging sound could be heard.

"Please buckle up," the driver warned. "We're still ten minutes out."

"Just shifting seats," Chris said apologetically, patting the surface again.

Tom gave him a furtive glance and then scooted over, blushing furiously, buckling in swiftly. Chris waited for him to settle before leaning over and whispering in his ear. "I love you right back. You know that, right?"

Tom nodded.

Chris offered his hand. Tom ignored it and slipped his own on Chris' thigh, watching him closely whether he would protest or not.

Chris was so freaking tired of making it so complicated. He just leaned against Tom, covering his hand with his own. He could hear Tom's sobbing, indrawn breath, and felt how he squeezed his thigh, and he couldn't have cared less whether the driver saw them or not. Tom and him, they were starting to rebuild their relationship.

And that was more important than anything else he could think of.


	26. Dented

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is trying hard to meet Chris half way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts exactly where the last ended.

Chris felt Tom shiver against him and shifted slightly, wrapping his right arm around his back. Tom gave a deep sigh as he sank against him, and Chris closed his eyes and placed a soft kiss against his temple.

It felt so damn right. At this moment he didn't care that there was a third person in the car who might see. All he cared about was that Tom found comfort in his arms, finally. There wasn't much he could say; they'd said so many things this week. The only thing that really helped was being close, being there for each other.

He was fairly sure that Tom was silently crying. His left hand curled around Chris' thigh and his thumb brushed over the heavy denim of his jeans. Chris just held him close.

Eventually, they arrived, and Tom sat up and wiped his eyes and nose while Chris paid. Tom didn't say anything when they got out of the cab, just wrapped his coat tightly around him and buried his chin in his shawl as the driver got their bags out of the boot and then drove away. They stood alone on the far end of the darkened car park, Tom shivering.

Chris stepped closer, and adjusted Tom's shawl. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Tom drew a shivering breath and shook his head.

There was really no one around to see them. Chris didn't know if he'd cared if there was. He drew Tom into a hug and held him tight.

"What a sucky day," Tom complained into the heavy material of his coat's shoulder pad. "What a fucking sucky day."

"Are you sure we still want to go climbing?" Chris asked.

"You wanted to go and I honestly have no better idea." Tom sniffed.

"I wanted to go because we were at odds with each other and I thought a bit of exercise might help," Chris said. "Instead of being stuck with each other with no way to go."

"Yeah." Instead of showing any kind of initiative, Tom simply hugged him harder. "Just five minutes, Chris."

"It's okay," Chris soothed. "It's going to be okay." He rubbed Tom's back, suddenly finding himself in his role as Tom's comforter again, and so publicly, on top of it. All of this, adjusting Tom's shawl, being empathetic and considerate, holding Tom for longer than the socially prescribed one second for a proper man hug – he felt every single doctrine he had unconsciously imbibed in his life rear its head and make its presence known. It was still uncomfortable. No matter whether he considered himself gay or not, the behavior he displayed towards Tom would by-and-large be considered unmanly, even in the fairly touchy-feely world of acting. He held Tom close, at the same time scanning the horizon for anyone on approach.

"Tom?" he finally said.

"Hm?" Tom looked up and sniffed again. "Ah. Sorry."

"Listen, I have to admit I'd really like to go inside and get a bit of exercise," Chris said. "I've been stuck inside worrying all day and my mind feels like it's going to explode."

"Okay." Tom blinked. "I, on the other hand, have had about three hours of walking today. I'll climb the easier trails with you and then just watch?"

"That's fine with me." A quick check of the horizon showed people getting out of cars a few rows down, but they immediately turned towards the gym, their backs towards them. Chris ducked his head and rubbed noses with Tom, then mentally shrugged his shoulders and added a quick kiss.

Tom's indrawn breath and wide eyes were worth it.

  


* * *

  


They opted for finding a small upscale restaurant in walking distance from the gym once they were done, and made a quick reservation by phone. Far calmer and in better spirits, they huddled into their warm clothes and caps and started out on foot, the relative dark being their cover.

The exercise had done what Chris had hoped it would; made them remember how well they usually worked together, and helping him getting his head screwed on straight. After all the mental exercise of that day, feeling his body work at peak efficiency felt very reassuring.

But the relative awkwardness between them was back once it was just him and Tom, and they just walked for a while, with neither of them saying anything. Every topic they could have started was so fraught with tension. Chris wanted to ask if Tom was really going to be away the whole day tomorrow, but he knew they'd get into a tug-of-war over that. He still didn't feel comfortable disclosing that Liam had called, because he felt it was putting his own issues before Tom again. Talking about work would inevitably bring up coming out there, another issue fraught with tension. Whichever way he turned, traps and pitfalls loomed. Even the way they walked was a problem – should they hold hands or not? Everything was far too complicated for Chris' liking at the moment.

"What are you thinking about?" he finally asked Tom, trying to be on the safe side.

"How much we've needed this," Tom said.

"Going climbing?"

"Getting into a substantial fight."

Chris blinked. "I hate it."

"Didn't say it felt good," Tom said, giving him a quick look.

"No."

They walked for a little until Tom said: "You know how I've always been so unsure about you staying? Or what will come of us once you leave for _Cyber_?"

"Eh, yes."

"I was so close to telling you to pack your things and leave today," Tom said. "So close. And then I come home and you'd done all these lovely things. Cared and called after me and were worried and called Michael to get a grip on your reaction. You had done all this work. At the moment I'm more worried if I'll ever get rid of you again."

"Oh." He wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"It makes me feel like you're more committed to making this work than I am," Tom said frankly. "More ready to change."

"But you're already perfect," Chris pointed out. "Why would you want to change?"

Tom gave him a look and snorted. "Right."

"What would you want to change?" Chris asked. "Honestly?"

"That's just the thing, all the things I'd like to do is..." He sighed. "Is to do with wanting a bit more of my old life back, to be honest."

"Oh." Okay, that was unexpected. "Like what?"

Tom took his time with his answer. "I think..." he finally said very slowly, obviously formulating his response as he spoke. "You know... I think... being with you, I've... kind of had the courage to take on a few things that I wouldn't have if I was on my own. Because I always knew you'd have my back. I... kind of... invested into our relationship because I knew that in return, I... I'd have you take care of me, and kind of give me a frame to work on my stuff. A safe zone."

"I'm glad," Chris said. "That's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah... well." Tom sighed. "I think... and this is so horribly selfish, but... you've hardly had time for me this past week. Actually, each time something else comes up you kind of zone out of the relationship, to be honest. At least of the part where I need your attention. So... I need to think about how to give a safe zone to myself. It seems reasonable to think I can do that by reclaiming some of the things I've been doing before we came together." He looked at Chris. "Seems to me that it would be a good start."

"That's horrid," Chris said, appalled.

Tom shrugged. "I wouldn't be so out of it when you don't have time for me."

"It's still horrid." Chris stopped. "We're in a relationship to take care of each other."

"But you didn't," Tom pointed out very calmly. "You weren't able to because you were so busy with other things."

"What kinds of things were you thinking of reclaiming?" Chris asked, knowing his voice sounded comically high.

"Running, for once," Tom said, turning to walk once more. "And I'd like to take up more Yoga again. Maybe on the nights when you don't have therapy and can watch India while I'm off."

That would mean even less time with them together. Chris was about to vocally protest that move but managed to bite his tongue at the very last moment. He was taking a huge chunk of time out of their day together twice a week to go to therapy. Afterward, he expected Tom to be ready to ride out with him whatever mood therapy had brought up – talking about what it had been about with Tom was still not something he was too keen on. He was taking up two full nights a week for his issues. He balked at the idea that Tom would curb their time together even more.

"But that would mean even less time together," he finally said weakly.

"Someone has to watch India," Tom said. "When you're in therapy, I do it. Would be fair play if you watched her while I was doing Yoga...?"

Not only that, India was actually his own daughter. This brought into stark relief that Tom was spending more time with her at the moment than he did. "Of course it would," Chris said, and then fell silent. "Tom, that's awful." He touched Tom's arm to make him stop.

"We see each other all day at the moment," Tom said. "It should be okay, right?"

"I'd rather ask Miss Rose to stay longer on the days that I'm in therapy," Chris said. "Maybe that's not what you had in mind? But the idea that we will have even less private time with each other... I don't like it. Then you could go do Yoga, I'm in therapy, and we'll be home together afterwards with India."

"And what guarantee do I have that once you're home from therapy, things aren't going to go down again?" Tom asked. "Then all the benefit from Yoga would be gone."

Chris' heart sank even further. The picture Tom painted of their life together was absolutely disheartening.

"Would it help," he finally said in a low voice, "if I went and worked out after therapy?"

"I don't know. Do you think it would?"

It would mean having to make sure that he left therapy in a state where he was able to deal with what might come up afterwards on his own. "All I want after therapy is usually just be with you," Chris said quietly. "But it sounds like I'm not doing a good job of dealing with it at all."

"It's hard," Tom said honestly. "I'd rather wait for another hour to have a Chris home who's not at the edge of a nervous breakdown than what we had last week."

"You're right, I'm usually so freaked and scared that all I want is to want to be with you so it doesn't feel so overwhelming."

Tom looked at him. "But I can't help you," he said. "It's over my head and it kills our relationship."

Chris' feet felt like lead. "Okay," he finally choked out. "Can I... is it possible for you... I know it's asking a lot, but... could you pick me up from therapy and go to the gym with me? I'd go work out for an hour while you're doing Yoga?"

"And India?" Tom asked.

"We'd have to ask Miss Rose to take her," Chris said.

"Come home after therapy and work out in the basement," Tom said. "I'll have dinner finished by the time you come upstairs, and India is going to be with one of us."

"And your Yoga?"

"I'm going to take two classes a week on the days that you can be home with the baby," Tom said quietly. "I need something for myself, too."

Facing two evenings alone in the flat with India and an assembly of the ghosts that haunted him sounded like nothing he wanted to do. At all.

"But please not Friday?" he managed to croak.

Tom gave him a tiny smile. "Okay, not Friday."

"I'm not going to take therapy on Friday again, either," Chris said.

"Okay."

They eyed each other and kept walking until Tom bumped into Chris and a moment later, Chris felt his hand slip into his coat pocket, curling around his own.

  


* * *

  


They were back home just before midnight, and found Luke and Steve on the sofa, watching TV, the table strewn with an assortment of snacks and an open bottle of red wine. Apparently, it had taken India until 10 to finally fall asleep – Tom suspected that the two of them hadn't really been trying that hard to put her down, either – and she'd been sleeping peacefully since then.

"She's so adorable," Luke said as they were starting to get into their jackets in the hallway. "Please call us again when you need someone to look after her."

"Will do." Tom promised.

"Thank you again for taking care of her tonight," Chris said. "And sorry for throwing you out like that."

"Nah," Steve waved him off and yawned. "It's either that or falling asleep on your sofa and staying until breakfast."

"Eh..."

Steve gave his booming laugh. "Don't worry. I can't wait to fall into my own bed." He shook their hands goodbye, and Luke gave Tom a hearty hug, and then Luke and Steve made their way out.

Once the door had fallen shut behind them, it was just Tom and Chris. To Chris' immense relief, Tom stepped closer and kissed him. It was a simple kiss, and their fingers tangled when Tom repeated it, and then Chris cupped his lover's face and deepened the kiss, and Tom's hand curled around Chris' waist. It felt familiar, and yet so different, mirroring the shifting dynamic between them. It wasn't all easy any more. Chris knew that he'd needed the shift, and Tom was mourning the loss, but this was the only way he could see them moving forward. He actually needed to be more than he had been so far; he'd cashed in on the promise that had attracted him to being with Tom from day one: To find and be all he could be. As it turned out, what he really needed was to stop being everyone's protector with no regard for his own needs. He didn't know yet what that would mean for his relationship with Tom.

Right now, he noticed how very attracted he still was to that man, how much he enjoyed the shift of his lithe body against his own. He realized that for the first time, he actually viewed him in that context – a man -, not just _someone he loved_. He ducked his head to inhale Tom's very male scent, mixed with his lovely Cologne, and took note of how solid his body felt under his hands, much less pliant than a woman's would be.

 _I'm a man, and I'm in love with a man,_ Chris thought. _It feels really good._ He _feels really good._

He found himself crowding Tom against the dresser, grinding his pelvis against him, and Tom grabbing his ass and grinding back. That also felt good. It felt damn good to know that his presence made Tom hard, it felt damn good that Tom wanted him back. That a man wanted him back. That this man wanted him back. It always came back to this man, this particular, extraordinary man.

"I'm exhausted," Chris admitted on a long breath. "I'm so tired of fighting with you."

"Yeah." Tom blew out a laugh.

"I know I haven't earned it," Chris said. "I really know I don't deserve it, but can we just... I don't know. Just rest together? Just be toge..."

"Yes," Tom said before Chris could finish his sentence. "That would be nice."

They walked into the living room, arms around each other's backs, chuckling, when they tried to navigate the door that way and invariably bumped into the frame. Ignoring the mess on the table, they cuddled together on the sofa, Tom against the back, Chris in front, long legs easily tangled, foreheads connected, arms around each other's backs.

Luckily, the close proximity of their position lent itself to gentle caresses, and then, gentle kisses. Chris took the utmost care to stay careful and considerate, waiting for Tom's clues to take anything further. Gradually, the man in his arms began to relax into the caresses, the kisses became very languid, lavish affairs, and Chris was pathetically grateful to feel Tom's hand slipping under his cardigan and pulling out his tee, because it meant he could do something about Tom's shirt barring access to his soft skin. He shifted, eager to feel Tom's arousal against his own without appearing to hurry things along, and then Tom slipped his leg over Chris' and hooked it behind his knee and yeah... that was definitely a substantial boner Tom was sporting there.

Chris closed his eyes and hummed, rubbing up against Tom, then letting off so Tom would not feel pressured. His right hand betrayed him, shifting to Tom's deliciously round ass, squeezing it.

"Sorry," Chris immediately apologized. "I think I'm getting carried away."

Tom mustered him from under long lashes. "Really?"

Chris nudged his nose. "Yeah, really," he said, smiling. "Hard not to."

"Hard being the defining term here?" Tom moved his hips to illustrate his question.

"One of many," Chris said, finding his voice slipping into a lower register. He ducked his head and kissed Tom, with a little more desire laced in, and Tom responded by arching against him, his fingertips digging into Chris' back. "Easy," Chris soothed. "Easy, baby."

When it worked, it really did. Tom was allowing himself to be incredibly responsive, putting himself completely into Chris' hands, and this time, there was no question that Chris was up to the task. He really wanted this, and his head was free of anything but this, anything but Tom's body straining against his own and his labored breath against his ear.

He reached down and slid his hand between their bodies, needing to feel both of their cocks working against each other, which had its own magic.

"Touch me," Tom croaked. "Please."

"Like this?" He palmed him, providing a surface for Tom to grind against. If he hadn't already been so hard, he would be now; Tom's cock in his hand felt really entirely too good.

"Can you just stroke me?" Tom asked.

"Is it that urgent?" Chris asked, kissing Tom's nose. But he was already opening the buttons of Tom's jeans. The head of his cock peaked over the waist band of his boxer briefs, greeting Chris. He ran his thumb over the soft surface, and Tom hissed in reaction. "Am I doing okay?" Chris asked.

"Yeah." Tom shifted, giving him better access. "Just stroke me, please."

Chris freed his cock and ran the back of his fingers against the clearly visible swollen vein. He grasped him lightly, pulling down his foreskin, giving his cock already a good amount of stimulation. The feel of it in his hand was so familiar yet never failed to awe him.

"Please, faster," Tom panted.

"You just want this?" Chris asked, easily complying.

"Yes, just... _oh_... that feels really good." Tom bit his lower lip. "Please don't stop."

Chris settled on his arm, watching Tom going through all the stages of arousal, his hand twisting and rubbing his lover's cock until he could see Tom's brow furrow and his eyes squeeze shut.

"I'm coming," Tom panted. "Oh... oh god... Chris... don't stop."

It only took a few more strokes, and then Chris could feel Tom's cock contract and pulse, shooting out his semen with quite some force. Chris watched with fascination just how far it was flying, imagining how this was often happening inside of him, lodging Tom's seed deep and true. He kept handling Tom until he begged for him to stop, then wiped his hand on his already soiled shirt and just held him, gently stroking his side.

"Feel better?" he finally asked, when Tom showed some signs of coming to.

Tom just hid his face against Chris' shoulder.

"Hey." Chris cupped his neck and kissed his brow.

It took Tom a while to respond, but then he said, hardly audible: "I don't think things are back to normal yet."


	27. Fragile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom finds out just how fragile Chris' brave shell really is.

Tom woke early the next day, with his nose between Chris' shoulder blades, his lover still peacefully sleeping. He took his time coming to, letting his thoughts gently disengage from his dreams to the present.

The present wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

After ten minutes of waking up, Tom carefully rolled out of bed and padded into the bathroom. Chris was still peacefully sleeping when he emerged. It was 6 am and Tom decided it was just the right time for his morning run. Fifteen minutes later, with the taste of a quick bowl of muesli still on his lips, he closed the front door behind him and stepped out into a cold and still dark winter morning.

The movement felt good and gradually woke him up and, moving forward as he was, he could just open up and be honest with himself.

He knew he was falling out of love with Chris.

He just let that thought stand and kept jogging, past the houses, past the street lamps, past the very occasional early morning straggler on the sidewalk. He couldn't connect with Chris any more, didn't feel that love anymore that had touched him so deeply and made him open up like a flower to him; that child like trust, knowing that he was absolutely, irrevocably safe in Chris' hands.

Because he wasn't. Not any more.

He turned into the entrance to Regent's park, empty and beautiful at this time of day. Picking up his pace, it felt good to just feel himself, how quick and agile he was, that he was not stuck to one place, not in the physical world, and not anywhere else. He was Chris' partner, and that had been a conscious decision, not something that had just happened to him, although he knew new lovers liked to pretend it had been fate that brought them together. He'd decided that Chris was worth it. He was still so grateful for all the great things that Chris had unlocked in him, and made him feel safe about. He didn't have any regrets.

But.

Tom picked up his pace on the return trip, really challenging himself on the slight incline to go as fast as he could. The blood pumping in his veins, cold air supplying him with oxygen, he felt incredibly alive and very satisfied with himself on his way back.

They'd been fighting so hard to keep connecting these past two weeks. Fought impossible schedules, having to take care of a baby, the hard work they were doing, and a myriad of Chris' troubles so they could still spend time together, be together. Tom was so sick of fighting the impossible. He had no influence on the issues Chris chose to tackle. He'd made fairly clear, he thought, that the way he was tackling them needed to exclude taking it out on him, Tom. But other than that, Chris did what he felt he needed to do, regardless of the consequences for Tom, or their relationship.

And that, in short, hurt and confused him, to the point where disengaging himself from the goings-on seemed a really good idea. If he didn't have any control over what was happening anyway, what was the point?

The flat was still quiet by the time he came home. He tiptoed through the bedroom and took a long, indulgent shower, taking his time with his morning routine. Once sufficiently primped, he padded back into the bedroom and found the blinds drawn and the bed empty. He realized he was more relieved than sad about that and slipped into some comfortable clothes, then made his way to the kitchen. It was still empty; so Chris was probably changing and dressing India upstairs.

Tom started the kettle and their coffee, and by the time Chris and India appeared in the door frame, India's mash was already steaming in her warm plate. She squealed when she spotted Tom, holding her arms out for him to pick her up.

"Morning," Chris said. "Look who's impatient to see you."

"Good morning, cupcake." Tom took her on his arm and reveled in how nice it felt to carry her. "Have you had fun with Uncle Steve and Luke last night, hm?" He rocked her.

"She's well rested, that's for sure," Chris said. "Lots of spunk this morning, right, India?" He leaned over her to kiss Tom good morning. Tom allowed it absentmindedly. "What are we going to have for breakfast?"

"Would you mind making pancakes? I can feed India while you fix them."

"Sure thing." Chris carried India's plate and Tom's coffee over to the table. "Had a good run?"

"Yeah, it was really nice. Cold and crisp out. Great day." Tom sat down with the little girl in his lap and fixed a bib around her neck while she gnawed on her plastic spoon. He managed to take it out of her clenched fist and scooped up the first spoonful, testing if it was edible. She strained and bounced on his knee, opening her mouth wide. "One could think you were hungry," Tom teased her, smiling. "Here you go, little sparrow."

"Heh." He heard Chris say from the other side of the kitchen. "You two are a good team."

"Thanks." Tom chose to concentrate on feeding India, not thinking about what was going on between him and Chris, and Chris let it go.

  


* * *

  


They had breakfast in the living room, with India on her play mat in close proximity. It was weird to exist in the same room together and have hardly anything to say to each other. They managed to make it through half their breakfast, when Chris finally broke down.

"You haven't said a word this morning," he said. "I guess I don't have to ask what's wrong?"

"No." Tom sighed. "And I don't really want to talk about it any more."

"Okay." Chris sounded resigned.

"Talking doesn't change anything," Tom said. "The whole day yesterday was horrid and I'm over it."

Chris blinked.

"Sorry." Tom was surprised by his own outburst. "Just tired of weekends being so hard. We can't seem to do unlimited time together well. Makes you think, doesn't it?"

"We did fairly well the weekend we went to the sea," Chris pointed out. "And I can think of a few more that weren't too bad, either."

"We both came into this relationship with way too much baggage and keep wanting the other person to solve issues that are ages old," Tom said.

"We are solving issues that are ages old," Chris corrected.

"Yeah, well, maybe our relationship has run its course," Tom said bluntly. "If that was the point of it. Because I've had it."

Chris put down his knife and looked at him. "My feelings for you haven't changed," he said. His voice had the slightest tremor in it.

"Well mine have," Tom admitted. "I really thought... that time... and effort... would make a difference, but I feel like I have no say in anything that is happening any more. You follow your own path regardless of how I feel about it, and then expect me to deal with the consequences. And you've said, several times now, that the old Chris won't come back. I think... I was in love with the Chris you want to get rid of." It all came out in one big wave of words. "And if he's not in this relationship any more, there seems no point in me being in it, either."

Chris sat stunned. "I can't turn back the clock," he said.

Tom shrugged. "I just know it's not working for me the way it is right now," he said. "I don't know what else to tell you."

"This is not the end," Chris argued. "Things will keep evolving, and they will get better again."

"I told you, I'm all about living in the presence with you, and right now, I'm underwhelmed by that reality." It felt so damn good to get it off his chest, just be honest, without fear.

"Tom, give me time to get a grip on things," Chris said. "I get that it's not great how I've reacted but between yesterday and today, how am I supposed to turn things around in a night?"

"Chris, the person I fell in love with is gone!" Tom said heatedly. "That is my gripe with this. And each time I tell you I miss you... ah, damn." He felt himself well up. "Each time I tell you I miss you, all you have to say is that it's not going to be how it was. So what am I supposed to do?"

Chris stared at him. "But I'm right here," he said feebly.

"This is not the man I fell in love with." He felt his throat close, and got up. "Excuse me."

Running out on Chris seemed to be a theme lately. He couldn't help it. Falling face-down into bed, he pulled a pillow over his head and blocked out the rest of the world. So he behaved like a twelve-year-old. So what. The heartache was real enough and he was so tired of trying to tough it out, waiting for a better day.

It didn't take long for Chris to catch up to him. Tom was alerted to his presence by his hand on his back.

"Hey," Chris said. "Tom, please."

He could've said _Leave me alone_ , but that wasn't really what he wanted, either.

"I want my Chris back," he said, instead, wryly aware that he was perpetuating his twelve-year-old behavior. So be it. Everyone else was, so why not him?

"Tom, please give me a chance to do better," Chris said.

Tom pulled the pillow tighter over his head.

"Honey, please," Chris pleaded. "Please don't go to RADA today. Stay here with India and me."

"So we can antagonize each other even more?" Tom snorted. "No."

"I was thinking we could go out and buy a Christmas Tree today," Chris said. "And decorate it together."

That actually didn't sound so bad. His inner twelve-year-old was definitely interested. Tom loosened his hold on the pillow and turned his head towards Chris. "You might be seen with me," he pointed out sarcastically.

"Okay," Chris said. "That could happen."

"So?"

"So it may happen," Chris said. "Okay."

 _Hm._ Tom turned all the way on his side. "Why is that suddenly not bothering me any more?" he asked suspiciously.

" _You_ don't bother me," Chris said clearly. He thought for a moment and then simply got on the bed with Tom.

Tom didn't quite know what to think about that, but his body made the decision for him and crawled into Chris' arms. It was so damn pathetic. Chris held him and Tom just hid his face against Chris' shoulder and nearly started humming when Chris stroked over his hair and kissed his brow. Damn treacherous flesh.

Chris didn't say anything new, just held him really tight, until India called for them. She sounded confused and scared that she'd been left alone when they didn't immediately come for her.

"Sometimes I think we took her in too soon," Chris said, holding him tight just a little bit longer.

"She's not what's pulling you away from me," Tom said. He sighed, and slowly extricated himself from Chris' embrace. "I got that one wrong."

  


* * *

  


"You wanted me to get some work done about my issues today," Chris said when they'd calmed down India and sat down again with their now cold breakfast. "I can do that this morning until India gets up from her nap. Then afterwards, we could all go out and get the tree until India goes down again. And while she's asleep, we could get the thing up and start decorating."

"The kind of tree I'm thinking about needs to be delivered," Tom said. "I mean, we could probably carry it when it's all wrapped up, but not with India along."

"You want, like...?"

"We have all this amazing head space in here," Tom said. "I'd like a tree that goes up to the gallery."

"You don't skimp on Christmas," Chris said with approval in his voice.

"No." Tom bit into his now spongy pancake.

"I'll keep India out of your hair this morning," Chris said. "So you can do what you need to do."

"It's not always up to us who she wants to hang out with," Tom said wryly.

"I'm just saying," Chris insisted. "If you stay in the bedroom or up on the gallery, where she can't see you, it should be fine."

It had really not been his intention to agree, but the points Chris made were all solid. "Hm."

"I have something to confess," Chris said.

"Uh-oh."

"When it comes to the issues I'm supposed to work on... I had a couple of text messages from Liam yesterday. We talked, and he knows you and I are together."

Tom stopped mid-chew and blinked. "What?" he asked feebly.

"I really didn't... I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to think someone else was more important than you," Chris explained. "Again. So... yeah."

"So how did it go?" Tom asked, now wide awake."What did he say?"

"Apparently – and I'm also sorry for dragging that up, I really am! - apparently Elsa and Miley talked about Christmas, and Elsa spilled that we split up and that I cheated on her with a guy. Not sure why she didn't mention you, but... yeah. So I had a couple of fairly urgent texts by Liam what the hell was going on. I had to call him back."

"Naturally," Tom said. "And... what did he say? How freaked out was he?"

"Um." Chris blew out a breath. "He was..." He gave a small smile. "He was... good with it, actually. Just… wanted to know what to tell Miley. He wanted the story from the source, so to speak. So he could defend me properly."

"Chris, that is _fantastic_ ," Tom said. "I'm so happy for you!"

For a split second, Chris beamed, then obviously remembered that he wasn't trying to take the spotlight off Tom. "So... um... yeah. He seems fine with it. He was asking if you'll come along for Christmas and... when I said yes, he seemed really excited about seeing you. I'm supposed to say Hi from him, by the way."

"Chris, that is... that is _huge_ ," Tom gushed. "You were _so worried_!"

"Yeah, yeah. Um..." He tried to get serious, but the sunny, delighted smile came through once more. "That was something."

"So... all the things you're working on with Michael...?"

And the light went out and Chris immediately seemed uncomfortable again. Tom could catch a clue when it hit him in the face. He reached forward and touched Chris' wringing hands.

"It's okay," he said. "You don't have to talk about it."

"Um... okay."

"So that's great news, then!" Tom switched the subject back to Liam. "So Christmas with the family should be fun for you now that that's out of the way."

"Yeah, um... I... I still need to have a long talk with everyone," Chris said. "I'm not doing all this work for nothing." He seemed resolved.

"About...?"

"About... mom being sick and how it all went down." He exhaled. "I mean, I... I'll need a bit more time with Michael, and... with you, but... I don't want to carry this around forever. I don't want to be the only one who remembers. I don't want to be alone with these memories." He grew quiet and stared pensively at his knees.

"Chris?" Tom shifted closer and rubbed his back in sympathy. "It's going to be okay."

  


* * *

  


Chris cleared off the table after breakfast and then joined Tom and India, who were having a merry time of it in the living room, playing. He expected Tom to disappear fairly quickly, but apparently he had really missed the little girl the day before. Chris got out his laptop and started to call up the notes he'd made after talking to Elsa, and began to sift through them for points he wanted to make to his lawyer, while baby giggles and Tom's laughter and playful growls filled the room. It was so hard to believe they were having a tough time right this moment. Gratitude for the laughter present in his life rushed through Chris, and he appreciated it especially because it could be so fleeting.

"I'm taking her to the bedroom with me so you can work in peace," Tom said after five minutes of ruckus. "I'll bring her back when she wants you."

Chris looked up to find them looking back at him like two peas in a pod, up for mischief. "It's okay," he said. "I didn't expect you to babysit. You can leave her here with me."

"We were looking forward to bouncing on the bed," Tom pointed out.

"By all means, then." He couldn't help chuckling as they went off. Even through the door that Tom closed behind them, he could hear India's delighted shrieks at whatever shenanigans Tom got up to with her.

He'd got a solid hour of work in when Tom brought her back, freshly changed. Chris took the opportunity to stretch and fix a bit of tea for himself and India, which she had in the crook of his leg while he re-read what he'd worked on so far. He then took the time to play quieter games with her until she indicated that she wanted to play by herself for a while. Chris got all the major points of his outline down by the time India was getting tired enough for her nap.

  


* * *

  


Coming down the stairs, he could hear Tom putter about in the kitchen. Suddenly, the sadness was back, knowing that Tom missed him and couldn't find his way to the person he had changed into. It all seemed so senseless, suddenly, to do all this work, and at the same time destroy what he had time and again identified as the most precious thing in his life. He didn't feel like going to the kitchen and facing Tom's confusion and grief again. There was a limit to the pain he felt he could keep inflicting on himself. And Tom would probably say the same.

He still found himself leaning in the door frame, watching Tom fixing himself a sandwich and a cup of tea, the sight of him in pajama bottoms and thick socks so familiar now. He watched him do his thing, his back turned to him, remembering the many times he'd used a moment like this to wrap himself around his lover's back for a quick cuddle, as if he needed the body contact like sustenance for his soul. And maybe he did, and maybe this was the root of all their problems; that they were supposed to work all day in close proximity without ever being able to give in to simple touches that would show real affection. And then the deprivation added up until the night, when they were finally alone with each other, when the frustration and need was piled so high, and they still had so little time for each other that it just caused them grief to no end. And he'd been off on a complete tangent on top of it, making it even worse. Thinking that if he fixed everything else, he wouldn't have to face up to how scared he was about coming out as gay.

There.

And Chris had to ask himself, truly, if antagonizing Tom wasn't just a way to prolong the inevitable, of holding him at arms' length and distract him so he wouldn't press on, wouldn't keep insisting that imagining a bright future together wasn't enough; he had to be here, now. That he had to stand up to being together with him, now.

"Chris." Apparently he'd made some noise, because Tom put down the knife he'd used to fix his meal and turned around to him.

"Now I don't want to talk," Chris said. "I'm so tired."

"Do you want a sandwich, too?" Tom asked.

"Yeah." Chris sighed with relief and slid onto the bench by the back wall. He relished the silence while Tom went to and fro to make a small mountain of sandwiches for them. Tom popped by the fridge and got them some water and then sat down opposite Chris.

Still silent, they started eating.

"How were you getting on?" Tom asked after finishing his first sandwich.

"I'm done," Chris said. "I want to give it a read-through later today to see if I forgot anything, but so far, it's solid. You?"

Tom shrugged. "Spent some time writing and thinking."

Chris found his leg making contact with Tom's under the table. Tom's pressed his back.

"Do you have time for a cuddle?" it just burst out of Chris.

"I'd like to get some more writing done, to be honest," Tom said. "I was just starting to get really into it."

Chris knew that his face fell. "Okay."

"You know I've only had an hour because I played with India first," Tom pointed out.

"I could've watched her," Chris pouted. "Ugh, sorry. I'm just cranky."

Tom indicated that he was listening.

"Cuddle tank on empty," Chris said. "Doesn't that bother you?"

Tom inclined his head.

"Cuddle now, write later?" Chris suggested. "I'll keep India out of your hair when she's up and you take as long as you like."

"You must be really desperate." Tom smiled and shook his head.

"It was miserable, waking up without you," Chris said. "I'd wanted to wait until you came out of the bathroom this morning but then India called." He grimaced. "I don't like it, Tom."

"I don't feel like making love," Tom said quietly. "I only want to try that again when it doesn't feel so off between us."

"Oh." It was such a stark reminder that they were still negotiating every step, that right now, nothing just came to them the way it had before. Chris was hurt; he was always so careful about listening to Tom, making sure he was comfortable. Until yesterday morning, he had to admit. When he'd followed Tom around all morning to figure out what he needed, and when he'd finally talked him into cuddling on the recliner, had then destroyed every bit of trust he'd just worked to regain. "I guess I messed that up," he said self-deprecatingly.

Tom just looked at him. "I tried, last night," he said. "It's not like it used to be."

This time it was Chris who got up and walked away.

  


* * *

  


Tom was right; they needed more space for either of them to find some privacy, a room to just work on their own things, by themselves. All his notes were in the bedroom, but that was where Tom had been working. His things were still strewn all over the bed, his laptop still running.

Chris gave it a passing glance on his way to the wardrobe, where he had stored the notebook he'd been working with yesterday. He took pen, paper, and the already fairly sizable envelope and turned to walk out and find his peace somewhere else – and bumped squarely into Tom, who'd come after him.

Chris flushed beet red, embarrassed and scared about Tom seeing the crutches he needed to deal with being hurt. He was just about to flare up angrily but then remembered what Tom had told him yesterday – that he would have to leave if he ever lashed out at him again. His confusion and hurt must have been clearly visible on his face, because he could see Tom's expression change immediately.

"Chris, I came to apologize," he said. "I didn't mean to hurt you by what I said."

Chris just gulped.

"Do you need a moment?" Tom asked.

Chris nodded mutely, too scared to say the wrong thing if he opened his mouth, or worse, for all his feelings to pour out in some way.

Tom took a step back, giving him space. "Come see me when you feel better?" he asked softly.

"Okay," Chris croaked, and pushed past him, fleeing upstairs, into India's nursery, closing the door firmly behind him.

  


* * *

  


Tom watched things unfold like a car crash he wasn't involved in. When the door upstairs clapped, he was still standing in the same spot, blinking. Everything had happened so fast. One moment, they'd been peacefully talking in the kitchen, and then suddenly everything went askew.

It didn't feel good.

He swallowed, and made his way slowly back to the kitchen. His appetite was gone, and he wrapped the remaining sandwiches in saran wrap and put them in the fridge, just taking a banana and his tea. The instinct to go after Chris and comfort him was incredibly strong. He hadn't meant to hurt him; he'd just meant to explain why he was reluctant to agree to cuddling – which often developed into something else, like it had last night. Which was not a bad thing on the whole, but... but right now, not what he felt comfortable with.

He didn't know what exactly Chris was doing right now, but he had at least an idea from what Chris had described to him in the car yesterday. He also understood – maybe for the first time – just how vulnerable and fragile Chris must feel.

He felt terrible about having hit Chris so hard where it hurt most. As he settled back against the headboard and had a sip of his tea, he wondered if that was what was brewing inside Chris every time he lashed out like he had in the past. If it was, the courage to display just that pain it so openly and actually work on it head-on was admirable.

Tom took his laptop and settled it on his thighs, but it was hard to concentrate.

He had underestimated how deep Chris' pain went. He'd underestimated just how scared he was. If he was overwhelmed by what Chris' let out when they were together, how must it feel to be the one to experience all these emotions first-hand?

Some part of Chris must still live in that scary time when he was younger and everything was askew. When he had no support and no one to talk to. And maybe, during the time that you worked on those issues, the emotions you had to suppress back then came out in force now. Maybe it meant that some of Chris from back then could be and should be healed today.

And maybe Chris had chosen him to do it with, because he trusted him and felt safe with him.

It was basically the same thing that Fiona had said on the phone, but coming to this conclusion on his own was something completely different. Tom sat, thunderstruck, his heart pounding with awe and a sudden flush of tenderness towards his lover – and then the feeling of abject panic whether he was up to this challenge or not.

Basically, he couldn't do anything than what he was already doing – be true to himself and let Chris know when he was overstepping his boundaries. And maybe, he thought, since Chris didn't really want to share what went on in therapy, being a silent support when he needed him would be enough.

Whether he was going to be supportive or not, whether he was committed to seeing it through or leaving because it was too much, Chris was stuck in the middle of the process right now, and couldn't just snap out of it, however much he wished that was possible. With his determination and commitment, he would definitely see it through to the end. The question was, would Tom stick around long enough to see what came of it, or was he going to quit now because it was more than he had bargained for?

Tom closed his laptop and put it away, pulling up his knees and hugging a pillow to his chest.

He hadn't asked for this, he thought angrily. It wasn't fair. He wanted the Chris back that he had fallen in love with, who took care of him and eased his fears and was this strong presence by his side.

Basically, what Chris asked him to be for him, right now.

Tom bit into the pillow to muffle his desperate howl.

  


* * *

  


Chris scribbled furiously, not caring if he made sense or not. It didn't matter if he wrote a million times "I'm so angry I'm so angry I'm so angry" until a full sentence came to mind. It had been a good idea to come up here, where his daughter slept, because he had to find different ways of dealing with the helplessness and guilt than smashing things and yelling at innocent people.

It took a good five minutes for him to form coherent sentences and spelling out exactly what had upset him so incredibly much about the situation, but when he had, and wrote them down, reread them, and then folded them and put them in the envelope, sealing the damn thing felt pretty good. He put his things aside, sliding them under India's rocking chair, and concentrated on deep breaths to calm his frazzled nerves.

He was so embarrassed for Tom to witness his...

Something scratched lightly at the wood of the door, and then a piece of paper appeared under it.

Chris crawled over on all fours, sat down with his back against India's dresser, and opened the note.

 _I'm very sorry I hurt you._ It said. _Can we please make up?_

Chris obtained his notebook and pen from under the rocking chair, scribbled something, tore out the page and pushed it back out under the door. It read _I miss you, too._

Chris heard a sound from the gallery that he couldn't quite place, and it took a moment longer until the next note appeared, this time on different paper.

 _Cuddles will be delivered upon request._ Tom had written. _Just come down when you're ready. I'll be there._

  


* * *

  


It took Chris ten minutes, and Tom must have read the same page ten times by then. He'd remembered that day when Chris had fallen asleep on top of him, his head under his shirt, while he'd been reading scripts; how comfortable and lovely that had felt. And somehow, he felt it would be easier for Chris if he didn't pay full attention to him, so he had taken out the three scripts his agent had sent him the past week and started reading. He heard the creaking of the stairs, he heard Chris walking across the living room, he smiled at him when he appeared in the door frame.

Tom just patted the mattress close by his side and then went back to reading, giving Chris enough time and privacy to store his things where he wouldn't find them. Then the mattress dipped and Tom lifted his arm for Chris to fit under it.

Tom waited for him to get comfortable, his leg over his own, arm firmly around his middle, head against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said gently. "I really am."

Chris just made a fairly desperate sound.

"I'm sorry we misunderstood each other earlier," Tom tried again.

"Can we please not talk?" Chris pleaded.

Tom thought for a moment, then put the script aside. He scooted down the headboard until he was on Chris' level, then reached across to pull a duvet over them. Chris turned in his arms until he was the little spoon, and Tom wrapped safely around him from behind.

A little nap together was probably a really good idea.


	28. With Both Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having hit rock bottom, there is only one thing for Chris left to do.

But Tom's heart was so full of grief, and sleep so far from grasp.

"Chris, what are we doing?" he finally said when he couldn't take the silence any more. "This isn't us."

Chris didn't say anything, just pressed the hand he was holding.

"Chris, do you think we should break up?" Tom asked, his voice hardly audible. "All we do is hurt each other and we can't seem to be able to stop."

He felt Chris' breath catch, and then heard him say, on a very rough voice. "Let me ask the question and we'll both answer at the same time."

"Okay." Tom was trembling.

"Should we break up?"

"I don't want to." "No."

Tom hid his face against Chris' back while Chris nearly crushed his hand.

"We've hit rock bottom," Tom said tonelessly.

"Yeah." He felt Chris' chest expand with a sigh, and then his lover turned around to him, and they kissed. They were both shaking.

"I'm nothing without you," Tom said. "I need your love and care so much. When you're not capable of giving it I get so scared, and I get defensive and sarcastic and I don't want to hurt you but I want to protect my heart."

"Sh." Chris brushed his hand through Tom's hair, making him sob.

"I don't want to live like this," Tom kept on. "I don't want to be on guard with you. I don't want to keep you at arm's length because I don't know what will happen next."

Chris took a long, deep breath as if to say something, but then he just quietly shook his head, his thumb still stroking the shell of Tom's ear.

Tom drew him closer, against his shoulder, in a crushing hug, and they clung to each other desperately.

"I thought this was all necessary but right now I'm... just scared." Chris said tonelessly. "I'm scared I keep this up to hurt myself. Because I am. But it doesn't feel good at all."

"Don't." Tom's heart sat in his throat. "Don't do this to the man I love."

"I need to stop doing this to the man _I_ love," Chris said, looking at him. "I think I keep pushing you away so you'll say it's too much and..."

"Chris." Tom held him tight, his arms around Chris' shoulders. "Please don't. Please don't. Please don't. I don't know how much longer I can hang on. Please stop."

Chris held him tight, his face pressed against Tom's neck. Tom could feel how agitated Chris was by the tremors going through his body.

"This is the scariest thing I've ever done," Chris said.

"What is?"

"Daring to believe I deserve this," Chris said.

"You need to do it now, or whatever is making you drive me away will have won," Tom said. "Is that what you want?"

"No."

"I'm hanging on by my fingernails," Tom confessed. "I am on the cusp of thinking what a relief it would be to stop trying so hard to fix this and just let it go."

Chris was quiet for a very long time, just holding on to him. "When I call my parents," he finally said tonelessly. "Would you be there with me?"

"Of course," Tom said. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I think I'm still punishing myself for not protecting my mom," Chris said. "I don't know if I'm right but..."

"I'll be there," Tom said. "Of course I will."

"Because it would make sense... if... I hadn't protected another woman I said I'd loved... again... for all of this to come up... now. Wouldn't it, Tom? And... how angry my dad was with me... I'd... wait for someone to be angry with me now... and no one is."

"So you're angry at yourself," Tom said. "To make up for it." It all started to make horrid sense now. That Chris would come to the man in his life, Tom, to deliver the blazing dress-down that he expected. That he kept jostling for it each time he knew he'd hurt Elsa in some capacity.

There was also, very faintly, just the slightest hope that if Chris conquered this... went to the source of it... that... Tom might not have to be afraid any more that it would happen over and over again. Because if it did... The bile coming up Tom's throat told him everything he needed to know. He wasn't up for it. As much as he loved Chris, he could not stand this. And if that made him weak and inferior and not loving Chris enough, okay. But he wasn't built for this.

"Please call them," he said. "I'll be there."

Chris pressed a kiss to his mouth and then clambered out of bed, just to return a moment later, phone in hand. "It's 10 pm over there," he said. His hands were shaking. "Should I try my mom or my dad first?"

"Mom," Tom said. And then he plunged in head first. "I think she's waiting for your call."

"Why'd you say that?" Chris was sitting cross-legged, his eyes fixed anxiously on his phone, but now he looked up, at Tom.

Time to 'fess up. "Because I called her this week," Tom said. "You were feeling so horrid and I didn't know what to do, so I asked her to give you a call. I thought maybe she could help."

"She never called." Chris looked confused.

"No." Tom, who was still under the duvet, put his cheek on Chris' knee. "But when we talked I felt like she had an idea why you were feeling like you were feeling," he said. "She told me that if you wanted to talk, she would always be there, but for the time being, you had chosen me to do this with. I didn't get what she meant until today."

"She loaded this off on you?" Chris furrowed his brow.

"I tried to load it off on her," Tom admitted.

"You asked for her to call me, that's different," Chris said.

"I may have told her you're in therapy. She didn't know." Tom thought it was best he was coming clean all the way.

"That's okay, don't worry about it."

"But she acted like she might know why you were, and that she'd expected it to happen sooner or later," Tom said.

Chris just hit his speed dial, expression determined. Tom sat up beside Chris and draped the duvet over both of their shoulders, one of his legs thrown over Chris'. Chris took his hand and pressed it. Very hard.

They heard the dial tone. After ten rings, Fiona's voice mail came up. Chris turned it off, shaking.

"Try your dad."

Chris gave him a look. "It's going to be harder."

"It's that or wait until tomorrow," Tom said. "Or sometime tonight."

"Should I?" Chris looked at him with doubt in his eyes.

"It'll be Monday morning for them," Tom said.

Chris leaned his head against Tom's and slung his arm around his back, resting with him for just a moment. Without really looking at his phone, he dialed his father's number. After the second ring, Greg picked up. Chris was shaking so hard that he couldn't even speak.

Tom took the phone and turned on the speaker. "Hi Greg," he said. "It's Tom and Chris."

"Hello boys," Greg said. "Nice to hear from you! How is everyone? How is my favorite granddaughter?"

"India is great," Tom said. "Missing her mom, but we're trying to keep her distracted. How are you?"

"Fine, fine, just getting ready for bed," Greg said. "What's the time over there?"

"Almost eleven," Tom said. "I'm sorry we're calling so late, but we didn't want to wait until tomorrow – your tomorrow, that is."

"That's fine," Chris' father immediately said. "What's up?"

Tom took a deep breath. "Greg, we called because..." He looked at Chris. "Chris is having difficulties," he said. "Separating from Elsa's brought up quite a few things."

"Oh?" They could virtually hear how Greg got settled for the talk. "Chris, are you all right?"

"No," Chris said, the first word he said to his father."Hi Dad."

"What's up, son?" he asked, very no nonsense. "You're not fighting with Tom again, are you?"

Tom looked at him.

Chris sighed and rolled his eyes. "Thanks for ratting me out in front of Tom," Chris said.

"Always." Greg laughed. He was definitely not taking any of this seriously.

"Greg, Chris told me a bit about the time he was little," Tom said, trying to bring the talk back on track. Too much hinged on it, and he didn't mind nudging this along.

"Did he tell you what a hellion he was?" Greg laughed. "We had our hands full with Chris and Liam."

"He told me about his mother being sick," Tom said. "And how he was tasked with looking after Liam."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Dad, do you remember the day Liam broke mom's finger?"

"Um, yes." Finally, Greg became all business.

Chris, however, had trouble speaking again.

"Greg, Chris remembers that he was alone in the house with Liam and his mum. Is that right?"

"Can't he speak for himself?" Greg asked roughly. It was a tone that Tom had never heard from him. So it affected him, too. Interesting.

"I'm here, Dad," Chris said, voice shaking. "Don't speak like that to Tom. I asked him to help."

Greg cleared his throat. "Sorry. Just not used to my son not being able to talk to me."

"Dad, you gave me such a tongue lashing that night that it's still ringing in my ears,"Chris said harshly. "I wasn't talking to you for half a year. It's nothing new."

"We were all on edge," Greg defended himself. "My wife nearly died that night."

"I'm sorry," Tom said. Chris was crying, and he pressed his hand. "What did she have?"

"A very bad bacterial infection," Greg said, obviously glad that he could get away from the emotions for a moment. "A spider bite that wasn't discovered before her leg turned almost black and we didn't know why."

"That sounds horrid."

"She developed serious liver complications from it. If Liam hadn't broken her finger that evening so we had to get her back to the hospital, they might have discovered it too late," Greg said. "He saved her life."

"Liam did," Chris scoffed. " _Liam saved her life?_ "

"Greg, Chris feels that he didn't protect his mother enough from Liam," Tom said. "That he was responsible for her to go back to the hospital and being there for so long, again."

"Nonsense," Greg said. "They were just kids. It had nothing to do with Chris. Fiona was out in the bush and got bitten. It happens. It was unfortunate."

"Dad, I'm still waiting to be punished for leaving Elsa," Chris said. "The way you dressed me down after you came back from hospital, for beating Liam."

"What does one have to do with the other?" Greg asked.

"I feel like I didn't live up to protecting either one," Chris said. "You said to keep Liam out of Mom's hair, and I couldn't. He was always getting a rise out of me so she had to get up anyway and..."

"Chris," Greg said. "Listen to me." He sighed deeply, and then didn't say anything for a long time.

"Dad, we never talked about it again," Chris said. "When mom came home, and then Liam came back, I mean. After he threw the knife and got taken away. Everyone pretended it had never happened."

"Because we liked to think it didn't," Greg said.

"But it did, and right now, it's destroying my relationship with Tom," Chris said. "Because I've started remembering and I can't move on!"

"Chris, that's not our fault. Luke and Liam do just fine."

"I wonder," Chris said heatedly. "If Liam's doing so fine, why he uses talk shows as therapy and keeps talking about the bad old times when every neighborhood kid came home bloody because we didn't know how to play without hurting each other. Because we had no idea how else to deal with everything that had happened, Dad. Why do I still feel like I'm responsible for keeping Liam on the straight and arrow? Because you never took that responsibility away from me."

"Chris, if anything, you're responsible for taking care of Liam when he came to the States to look for work," Greg said. "And look how well that went. He's doing fine. Where does all of this come from?"

"Chris keeps looking for ways to punish himself when he's hurt someone he loves," Tom said quietly. "Warranted or not, it obviously haunts him what happened back then, that he couldn't protect his mother better."

"I want to know why no one took care of us," it finally broke out of Chris. "Why no one... why... why were we so alone? Where were you, Dad? _Where were you?_ "

It seemed like he had finally got through to his father, because they could both hear his harsh breathing as he was struggling for words.

"Your mom is just coming home," Greg finally said. "I'll call you back."

And he hung up. Chris stared at the phone disbelievingly.

"Give him a moment," Tom said.

"How can he just hang up?" Chris asked desolately.

Tom rubbed his back, knowing a little too well what an absent father felt like. He didn't feel like making excuses for Greg, either. Chris slumped against him, and he didn't mind at all. "I'll be here," he said. "Okay? Regardless of how this goes, honey." He kissed Chris' temple.

"You haven't called me that in a while," Chris said. "Thank you."

"I'm getting the impression that you're nothing but a giant marshmallow in there," Tom said lightly and poked his rock hard abs.

"You're noticing that now?" Chris smiled, thankful for the distraction. He leaned over and kissed Tom gently. "Thank you."

Tom found himself cupping his face and kissing him back. And again, getting really into it, until he was in Chris' lap instead of just one leg across. Chris' hands slipped down his back until they grasped his ass cheeks and massaged them gently. It felt pretty good. "Loving a man rocks," Tom finally said, his voice a bit unsteady.

"Uh-huh," Chris agreed with a shy smile. "It does."

The phone rang. They both sighed. Tom slid off Chris' lap while Chris picked up the phone.

"It's mom."

"Put her on," Tom urged, looking forward to hearing Fiona's voice.

"Hi Mom," Chris said.

"Hi Chris, hi Tom," she said.

"Hi there," Tom greeted her also. "Good to hear your voice."

"Greg said you called," Fiona said.

"Is Dad still there?"

"He had to take a moment," Fiona explained.

"That's so..."

"Sh. Chris." Fiona sounded understanding and stern at the same time.

"Why won't he talk to me?" Chris lamented. "Why is he such a coward?"

"Chris. Chris. I understand you're upset, but taking it out on your father is not going to help," Fiona said.

"You almost died!" Chris said, and then his voice choked.

"But I'm still here," Fiona said. "Hm?"

Chris just started to cry.

"Do you want me to leave you two alone?" Tom asked quietly.

Chris shook his head and held his hand.

"Chris, it's okay," Fiona soothed. "I'm still here. I know it was really scary for a while, but I came through."

"Is what Dad said true? That they saved your life because you went back to the hospital after Liam broke your finger?"

"Yes," she said. "I was so sorry that I had to leave you boys again. I could already see that you didn't deal well with me being gone so long."

"But you had to get better," Chris sobbed.

"Yeah, and I did, huh? I'm okay now, you can stop worrying, Chris. You can let that go. You did good."

The following storm of tears made Tom suspect very, very strongly that those two had never had this conversation before. That no one had dared to be relieved that she was back home for fear she'd be sick again, and die then. And then she'd just been home, and they'd probably tiptoed around her for weeks and months for fear that they could upset her, and Chris had never had a chance to purge that fear, or express just how scared he'd been that she'd die, and he would lose her.

"My darling boy," Fiona said. "I am so, so sorry I worried you so much."

Tom pushed the speaker button and put the phone against Chris' ear. There were things they needed to tell each other that he shouldn't be prone to, and he was absolutely fine with it. He leaned his head against Chris' shoulder and held his hand while rubbing his back in soothing circles, trying not to listen too closely to Chris' side of the conversation. It was such a relief for this to finally happen, that Chris was expressing his emotions towards the person that had caused them, and appropriate emotions on top of it. Not helpless anger, but grief, long-bottled, deep-seated sadness was now being released and found a sympathetic ear with the person that had once caused it.

This was so rare, it soothed him by proxy, that this was possible.

Chris cried, and spoke to his mother about how scared he'd been she wasn't coming home. How worried that him not being able to keep Liam in check had made her worse. That he'd been on his best behavior, and that they didn't let him see her for weeks after she'd been back in hospital, and how the idea that he had made her even sicker had broken his heart so thoroughly that he had not gone back to confiding in her until after he'd left to pursue his acting career, and didn't live at home any more.

The storm of tears started to subside, and Chris was actually smiling at something she said, and then: "Mom, I'm turning the speaker back on, I think Tom should hear this."

"Okay," Tom heard Fiona say. "Tom, are you still there?"

"Yeah."

"I was just telling Chris how delightful it was to hear from him when he found you," Fiona said. "When he came out to us. It was the first time he reached out to us with something so personal in a very long time."

"I remember you telling me that Tom brought out all the best things in me," Chris said. "The sides you hadn't seen in a long while."

"He did, and he does," Fiona said. "Thank you for helping Chris with this, Tom."

"Hnp," Tom said into Chris' sleeve. He'd been dragged into this kicking and screaming, and right now, listening to them love each other brought into stark relief that his own mother wasn't speaking to him at all because he fell in love with Chris and chose to pursue that relationship. He felt exhausted and petty.

"Mom, I think I've got to go," Chris said.

"That's fine. Thank you so much for calling," Fiona said.

"Thank you for listening."

"Give your father a bit of time," Fiona said. "I'm sure he'll call you back when he's ready."

"Okay." Chris sighed.

"And then we'll talk again," Fiona said. "Okay?"

"Okay. Um, mom?" Chris smiled shyly. "I love you."

"Love you, too, Kip," she said. And then, a bit louder: "Love you, too, Tom!"

"Good night," Tom said. "Talk to you soon."

"Bye Mom!." And Chris hung up.


	29. Against the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big scare causes Chris to reassess his behavior towards Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for a full blown anxiety attack in this chapter.

Chris sat motionless after he'd hung up. They were still both under the cover of the duvet, clinging to each other like two frightened little boys, Tom's arm around his back, his arm around Tom's raised knee.

"So that's it," Chris finally exhaled.

"How are you doing?" Tom asked. He kept rubbing Chris' back. It felt pretty good.

"Weird," Chris admitted on a short laugh. "How are you doing?"

"Sad," Tom said. "That my mother isn't speaking to me."

"We made it through this," Chris said. "Thank you."

"That's okay," Tom said. He pulled back his arm and yawned mightily, rubbing his eyes. "Are we going to wait if your father calls back?"

Chris shrugged. "Mom said he needs a little time," he said."He can have it." He stopped short and furrowed his brow. That was not how he would usually talk about his parents.

"I feel like calling mine," Tom said, laughing self-deprecatingly.

"Call your mom?" Chris asked, offering his phone.

Tom gave him a look and snorted. "No."

"Fells like someone beat up my insides." Chris rubbed his chest. "Phew."

"Better, though?" Tom asked.

"Yeah... I think. Still weird, though."

"How?"

Chris furrowed his brow. "Like I've cut an anchor that's been dragging me down," he said, then shook his head. "I guess it'll take a moment for everything to settle. Feels... different." Tom gave him a look, and Chris reached out and pulled him closer. "Come here," he said.

Tom was reluctant, but he didn't fight him.

"Babe," Chris said. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That I'm just changing on you," Chris said.

"You're worse than a roller coaster," Tom complained.

"Much," Chris agreed, but kissed his temple. "Still love you, though."

"Ugh." Tom grimaced.

"It's not like I don't hear you," Chris said close to his ear. "It's just something I've got to do."

"Yeah yeah." Tom pushed away. "Pull me in when you need me and when things are dusted and done, it's all: 'Deal with it, Tom.'"

"That's not what I meant."

"It's what comes across." Tom covered his face with his hands and shook his head. "Why do I keep talking, honestly? It doesn't change anything."

"Because you love me, too," Chris pointed out.

"If we are going to be together, this is not going to be how it's going down," Tom said. "I might as well kill myself." He got out of the bed and stood up.

"You don't mean that."

"Better believe it."

"Tom..."

"You're not the only one with issues," Tom said. "I just keep mine under better wraps." He walked off and closed the bathroom door behind him. Forcefully.

Chris blinked. His insides were still shaking from the talk he'd just had with his mother. Tom had been by his side every step of the way. He'd felt one hundred percent supported while he was talking to both of them. Tom had even asked if he should stay for his father to call. Why was Tom up and angry now?

Tom wasn't in a better mood when he came out of the bathroom, teeth brushed, hair quickly styled, and smelling like cologne. He walked over to the wardrobe and started to pull out a pair of jeans, a shirt, and his favorite cardigan.

"Um... Tom?"

"What."

"Are you... going somewhere?"

"Yes."

Chris shifted to the edge of the bed. "Care to tell me where?"

"Guess." Tom closed the belt on his jeans and reached for the cardigan.

"Tom..."

"I'm leaving for the League," Tom said. "You've had your talk, it went well, I'm happy for you. You should be fine."

"Um... I thought we were buying a... a Christmas tree... Tom..." He seemed to be serious about this.

"You aren't giving me reasons to stick around," Tom said. "It's all you, you, you. I'm talking to you, I might as well move my mouth and say nothing. It's all about you. 'I hear you but it's something I gotta do.' Your words. Well, this is something I gotta do. At the end of the day, something's got to be left for me."

"The day's not over yet. Tom..."

"I'm tired of waiting." Tom zipped up his cardigan. "Tired of sticking around to see if something changes. Plenty changes, but it keeps being about you. What you need. What's good for you. Where you want to go. Where you want to take this. Go for it! Since you don't need my input, you should be fine on your own."

"Are you... coming back?"

"Sure. It's my place. Where else should I go?"

"When?" Chris swallowed.

"When it's over," Tom said. "We'll play for a while and then go to dinner in the pub around the corner. I can't tell you exactly how long it's going to be. Probably nine, or ten, something like that."

"That's the whole day!" Chris was not amused. At all.

"Yup." Tom looked around and, satisfied that he had everything he needed, walked out of the bedroom.

"Shit." Chris got up swiftly to follow him through the living room into the hallway. "Are you at least going to tell me where I can find you?"

"Why would you want to find me?" Tom asked.

"Is this about the personal space thing?" Chris asked. "Honestly, I... I can get out of you hair for a few hours." But it didn't feel good to say that, either. He wanted to be close and was less than confident that he would do that well on his own, even after he'd talked to his mother.

"Chris, you know what it's about. I just want something to be about me for five minutes. I'm exhausted and I have nothing left to give. I will either jump in your face the next time I'm supposed to support you, or I'm finding myself a support system now that will help me deal with all of this. Since my mother and my sister don't talk to me any more over you, that leaves my friends. And I'm fairly sure a good number of them are going to be at the League meeting today, so I'm going there to get my head free and think about something else for a minute. Have some fun and laugh a little for a change, that would be nice."

"Do you think I'm doing this for fun?" Chris bristled.

"No. But you're doing it very egocentrically just for you, as you've told me time and again. Well, now I'm doing something very egocentrically just for me."

"And what am I supposed to do while you're gone?"

Tom shrugged and bent down to tie his trainers. "I'm sure you can think of something."

"Do you ever notice," Chris said heatedly. "That I am changing things? That I haven't lashed out at you at all even though I was really upset? That I've worked on my things this morning? That I've been giving you the space you asked for?" Even when he said it, it sounded completely lame to his own ears. Calling common decency some sort of stellar achievement was really shameful. He wished he could take it back right then, but it was already out.

"And have you noticed that all the while, you've managed to completely ignore every one of my requests about things being about me for five minutes? That I need your love and your support, too?" Tom's voice immediately wobbled and he wiped angrily at his eyes. "You keep taking and taking and taking and me _talking_ about how depleted I am doesn't change a single thing." He took his coat off the hook and shrugged into it. This time, he was careful to remember the winter gear.

"I really thought talking to my parents would change things," Chris pleaded. "That's why I did it, Tom, not to make you suffer more."

"But you chose to rub it in my face right after that you can very well hear me talking about what's important to me, but you just don't care," Tom pointed out. "I'm happy to support you when I can but... ugh, you already know. You already know everything, Chris." He put on his cap and then patted his pockets to check if he'd packed everything.

"Please let me at least know where you're going," Chris said.

"I'll be up at RADA until about six. We're going to the pub after, the Cock and Bull around the corner," Tom said. "For dinner and a drink."

"Please don't go." It was Chris' last line of defense. "Please don't leave."

"I'm sorry." Tom sighed, but he didn't come closer. "If I knew another way to get what I desperately need, I wouldn't leave. Try to take it easy today, Chris. Tomorrow is going to be a new day."

The door closed behind Tom, and Chris' world collapsed.

 

* * *

 

In a lot of ways, keeping Tom home and around was a lot like trying to keep his mother home and around. The lines between the two realities, his memories that were so incredibly vivid since he'd allowed himself to remember them, and what was going on now, had been blurry from the moment he first breached the walls between them.

The panic attack over Tom leaving wasn't any less frightening than it had been yesterday. It was worse. He found himself curled up on the sofa, desperately gasping for air. He'd done everything he could think of yesterday, talking to Michael, writing things down, talking to his brother and parents... and still, here he was, and the loss of Tom was way too much to bear.

Deeply ashamed and desperate, he managed to make it into the bedroom for his supplies, hardly capable of looking at the bed, where just a few moments ago, they'd still been, wound around each other, Tom completely supportive of him. He missed him so fiercely that his heart seemed to burst, and for a moment, he thought he'd be throwing all caution to the wind, run down the house stairs and after Tom, who was probably still starting the car or waiting for a cab, still in hailing distance.

He managed not to. He had no idea how he did it; they had driven away his mother in the back of Dad's car; he'd not been allowed to talk to her; everyone was yelling; his uncle locked him upstairs in his room so he wouldn't come out and beat Liam more... he'd knocked his knuckles bloody trying to get through the door. The moment his mother had collapsed was still burned into the back of his eyes, and likely nothing he would ever forget.

What if something happened to Tom today, and he wouldn't come home?

The dread closed his throat and made it incredibly hard to breathe. He tore out his book and pen and fled back into the living room, where he hardly made it to the sofa before he started to write down his memories, in detail. The confusion, Liam clinging to him with all his seven-year-old-might, yelling: "I didn't mean to do it! I didn't mean to do it! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" at the top of his lungs. "Make it go away! Chris! Make it go away!" and he couldn't, he couldn't.

And then that moment when he'd finally heard his father's car on the gravel in the driveway, coming back from the hospital, and knocked and knocked at the glass of his windows, desperate to get his father's attention, desperate to be let out, to know if she was all right... and then his father's imposing figure in the door frame, how he, Chris, had shrunken back, fallen over something in his haste to get away, and instead of comfort and support, had received the tongue lashing of a lifetime. He'd never seen his father so angry, never heard him get so loud. He'd ended up shaking under the writing desk by the window, curling up in the tightest space he could fit into, hoping his father would forget he was there, but Greg had pulled him out by his arm; the dark circles around his wrist from his relentless grip visible for days after.

And Greg had beaten him.

With his belt.

For one time only; he'd never done it before, he never did it again. But the shock and horror of being physically punished, have this kind of pain inflicted on him while he was already confused and in shock and guilt over what had happened earlier that night; it had broken something inside of him so thoroughly that he had never recovered from it. His uncle George had come upstairs and pulled his father off him; had told Chris to go and wash himself, and dragged a heavily breathing Greg out of his room, downstairs, out of Chris' way. He hadn't returned, no one had. Leaving Chris on his bed, staring at the ceiling, after his quick wash, his heart broken, the realization sinking in that what he'd done that night must have been so horrid, so unforgivable, or his father would not have punished him so severely if it hadn't all been his fault.

His hands were shaking as he was writing it all down, all he could remember, every detail, the sounds, the smells, the fluttering moth dying in the dingy nightlight on his bed stand, while he lay still on the bed, his body burning with shame, guilt, confusion, and the bruises his father's belt had left all over his skin.

Chris felt weak when he was done writing, completely washed out, shaken to the core. Upstairs, he heard India stirring, then crying, but he just sat, staring unseeingly at his writing.

And in the hallway, he heard a key in the lock. And the familiar "ding" of Tom's keys in the bowl on the dresser. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, but he would probably never forget Tom's face when he saw him.

"Chris."

"India's been crying. I can't get her."

"Okay. Okay. I'll take care of it. Are you all right?"

Chris just managed a weak smile.

"Should I call someone? Michael?"

He shook his head. "If you want," he then said. "If it's too much for you. I just want you."

"Okay. Okay." Tom bit his lower lip, thinking. "Honey, lie down, will you? I'm going to get a doctor to come in and look at you."

"Okay." He let Tom take his writing out of his hand. "You came back."

"Lie down, sweetheart." Tom helped him to lie down and draped a blanket over him, then took out his phone and dialed a number, apparently speaking to some sort of medical service. When he hung up again, India's crying had taken on a desperate pitch. "I need to look after India," he said. "Don't move, honey, we'll be back in a second."

"Okay." Chris felt as if his insides were vibrating, and he couldn't get warm.

"Please read this," he told Tom when he came back, with India on his arm. "Please."

"I will, honey, but India's hungry," Tom said. "I'm going to fix a quick bottle for her, that should be fastest. Do you need anything?"

"Tea?" Chris asked weakly.

"We will be right back," Tom said. "You can hear us from here, right?"

"Yeah."

"We're here, Chris. You're not alone." Tom pressed his hand, but then he left for the kitchen.

Tom had come home for him. And he was now being extra loud in the kitchen, and singing to India, so Chris would hear him.

Tom set a steaming cup of tea on the table next to Chris when he came back, and sat down on the other end of the sofa with India. She was usually having solid food along with their lunch at this time, but seemed fine kicking back in Tom's lap and accepting a bottle.

"Are you hungry?" Tom asked.

"My stomach is in knots," Chris said.

"You know how my mood tanks when I haven't had anything to eat. I'll get you the leftover sandwiches in a moment. I could whip up some soup with it; I'd love to have something hot."

"You're back." Chris tried to focus on the positive, his insides still vibrating.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I remembered how scared you were earlier," Tom said. "Your stupid comment made me so upset that I forgot for a moment how scared you were earlier."

"Please read it."

"I will, honey. I will."

And for some reason, for the first time, Chris could see clearly just how scared Tom was about this, himself. Chris slowly sat up, his elbows nearly buckling, and then took the mug of tea and stirred it, the warmth a welcome distraction from what was going on inside of him. India reached for him and he shook her little foot by the toes, but he knew his smile was weak and after taking a couple of sips, he lay down again.

The doorbell rang.

Tom went to open. Chris could hear him talk with the man who'd come in, probably describing what he'd found when he'd come home. Chris wasn't quite sure what that had been.

The doctor was in his fifties, balding, but had a calm, reassuring demeanor. He took Chris' blood pressure and pulse, and then listened calmly to Chris' halting description of what had happened when Tom had left.

"I'm in therapy," Chris told him. "I spoke to my therapist on the phone yesterday but he isn't available on Sundays."

"It sounds like you had a panic attack," the doctor said. "When is the next time you're going to see your therapist?"

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"I can always refer you to inpatient care if you can't wait until then."

Chris blinked. "Is it that serious?"

"Some people feel safer in a closed environment."

Chris looked at Tom. "I'd like to stay here, but...?" He knew he'd overstretched what Tom could take by a mile and more.

"Can you give him something to help with the anxiety?" Tom wanted to know.

"I can give you a sedative to tide you over," the doctor said to Chris. "You should talk to your therapist about long-term medication, though."

"Can he go to work tomorrow?" Tom had all the relevant questions.

"You should talk about that with your therapist."

It was clear that this kind of thing was not this doctor's specialty. They accepted the tablets he left with them, thanked him for coming so quickly, and Tom brought him back to the door. When he came back, he plopped to the floor in front of Chris' spot on the sofa and leaned back against Chris' hip, closing his eyes with exhaustion after making sure India was sucking the bottle again.

"I'm sorry," Chris said quietly. He reached out for Tom's shoulder, and was incredibly relieved when Tom took his hand and pressed his cheek against it.

"Looks like there's nothing you can do about it," Tom said, looking at him.

"Please read...?" Now that the anxiety slowly left his system, he started feeling drowsy and slow.

"Just a moment, honey, let me take care of India, first." She was done with her bottle and Tom turned her around in his lap, where she tried to stand and kicked while he patted her back to burp her.

"Tom, I'm sorry I was so insensitive."

"It doesn't matter now," Tom said. He reached for the sheets of paper on the table, and Chris' heartbeat started to pick up again. Then India burped and a flood up spit-up landed on Tom's favorite cardigan, as well as on the blanket that was covering Chris.

Tom just started to cry.

It was enough. It needed to be enough.

Chris struggled to sit up, his head swimming, but he did sit up. India was crying, too, the spit-up dripping from her chin, and then she threw up again. Either the bottle didn't agree with her or the general upheaval was affecting her stomach. Either way, she was as unhappy as either one of them right now.

"Babe, come on, let's get you to the bathroom," Chris nudged him. He could hardly stand, himself. Tom's tears kept dripping down his face, he couldn't stop crying. There was a man at the end of his rope, that was for sure.

It was time Chris faced up to his responsibilities and started caring for his family again.

 

* * *

 

He managed to get everyone to the bathroom, where Tom put India on the changing table and started cleaning her chin and neck. She was still in her pajamas, her whole front wet and stinky.

Chris unzipped Tom's cardigan and took it off his shoulders while Tom worked, finding that his t-shirt was also wet and smelled disgusting. First Tom took India's pajama off, then Chris peeled Tom's shirt over his head. He went to put both in the hamper and get Tom new clothes while Tom changed and washed India.

Chris found them snuggling when he came back to the bathroom with a change of clothes for both. India was in a fresh diaper and a onesie, and Tom was carrying her close to his bare chest, rocking her and stroking her back.

"Have you washed?" Chris asked him quietly.

Tom just shook his head.

"Hold on." Chris went and wet a washcloth and stepped over to clean Tom's shoulder, and then dried the skin with a fluffy towel. He placed a kiss on it for good measure before he could even think if that was appropriate, and flushed pink as he bustled the supplies away.

"I think we need a moment," Tom said, still holding and rocking India.

"Should we go to the living room? I'll bring your clothes."

"Okay."

Chris folded the soiled blanket away and blanched at the mess he'd made in his panic. He tried to clean up quickly, at least stacking things to one side, leaving the fresh clothes in a clean spot, and then settling their fluffiest blanket around Tom's naked shoulders when he sat down.

Tom draped it around himself and India. "What you wrote?" he asked once they'd settled, holding out a hand.

Chris' hand was shaking. "It's a mess."

"You wanted me to read it, honey."

The endearment helped. Chris dug out the scribbled on pages and handed them to Tom, then pulled up his knees and rested his cheek on them. He was shaking.

"It'll be okay," Tom soothed.

Chris closed his eyes, not wanting to see the expression on Tom's face as he read. His heart thumped in his chest nonetheless. He could hear Tom's breath stop and the rustling of paper as he turned a page over, and another, and another. How much had he written?

Finally, the sound of paper shifting on paper, and Tom nudging his shin. "I'm done, honey."

Chris blinked.

"You're a damn good writer," Tom said. "You should write a book."

"Not about that," Chris said, but Tom's calm response also helped calm his nerves.

"Explains a lot," Tom said. "Doesn't explain that you even talk to him any more, though."

"I forgot," Chris said. "I've had no memory of this. It only came back when you left."

Tom reached out and touched his shoulder in silent support.

"Thank you for coming back." He couldn't even look at Tom. He knew he hadn't deserved it.

"It's okay," Tom said. "I felt pretty stupid for leaving in such a huff once I was out and caught a clear head."

"I'm not giving you much choice," Chris said. The physical separation between them hurt, but he let it stand. He'd wait for Tom to signal to him that he was ready for closeness this time.

"Have another sip of tea, honey," Tom said. "Before it gets cold."

Chris did as he was told. "Do you really want to cook?"

"In a moment." Tom looked absolutely exhausted. "How are you doing?"

"Shaky," Chris admitted. "But I can take India while you're in the kitchen. We can also just call in. Please don't think you need to..."

"Call me when it gets too much?" Apparently Tom had made up his mind.

"Who do you call when it gets too much?"

Tom shrugged.

"Babe." Chris sighed, trying to think how to make Tom's life the least bit easier. "I'm going to take the sedative with lunch and lie down a bit after if that's okay."

"That would be a relief," Tom admitted.

Chris just nodded.

"Do you want to stay home from work tomorrow?"

Chris heaved a deep sigh. He felt weak and worn out and shaken to the core.

"'We'd call Miss Rose to take India to day care for the day and have the day to ourselves."

"You'd stay here with me?"

"You wouldn't stay here alone, would you?"

"It would be difficult," Chris had to admit. "We'll take a whole day off production, though."

"You're not well," Tom said.

"I'll give Keith a call," Chris said. The moment it was out, he felt relief flooding his system. "God, it feels good to say that."

Tom reached over to brush his hair out of his face. "Then it's the right decision, Chris."

"I'll just take 24 hours off with the sedative, then," Chris said.

"And I'll bring you to Michael's office tomorrow," Tom offered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Chris hung his head. "You never get what you want," he said. "This is not what you wanted."

"No." Tom didn't offer an explanation or relief. "It isn't." The baby on his arm started to squirm. "Are you feeling better, cupcake? Hm?"

She tried to sit up and reached for her father. Chris picked her up, catching a glimpse of Tom's naked shoulders. The sight still aroused him, he still wanted to reach out and touch him. But he held back, taking India on his lap, instead. "Are you ready to get dressed, little lady?"

She wasn't, protesting and squirming all the way. Tom chuckled at their struggles as he slipped into his fresh shirt and pullover.

"Any special requests for lunch, Chris?"

"Just you." It was out before he could hold it back. "That soup sounded good. Maybe a stew?"

"That'll take a while," Tom cautioned.

"That's okay. I'll have one of the sandwiches and..." He stopped talking. "Unless it's too much work...?"

"No, it just takes a while to come together," Tom said. "Stews always tastes better the second time you warm them up."

"Make a big pot to last all day?" Chris asked hopefully.

It made Tom smile. "Okay," he said. He ran a hand through Chris' hair, then leaned over and kissed him.

It made Chris' heart flutter. He almost reached out to hold Tom in the kiss but then didn't. Tom had to set the pace. He'd done enough damage.

"I'll be right back with the sandwiches and a snack for India," Tom said.

"We'll be here," Chris said. "If you need help, just say the word."

"I will, thank you."

 

* * *

 

Chris settled his daughter on her play mat and got out the baby gym for her. She was in a fine mood now, kicking and flailing at the toys over her head. Chris took the moment to assess how he felt; still shaken, still exhausted and somehow completely empty.

By the time he'd retrieved his phone from the bedroom, a freshly steaming cup of tea was on the living room table, accompanied by two sandwiches cut in squares, and an assortment of crackers and fruit for India to snack on. Chris wanted to go to the kitchen to tell Tom just how much he loved him and how much he meant to him but decided against it, strongly suspecting that leaving him alone was the bigger token of love right now.

He called up his messaging program and typed out a quick note to Keith, reading: "Tom & I both down w/stomach bug. Won't be able to come in tomorrow. V sorry! Don't want to infect the whole crew."

Apparently, Keith lived with his phone glued to his hand, because his answer was instant. "Don't come in! It's going 'round. Let me know how you're doing tomorrow."

"Will do. Thxs. Chris."

"Feel better. Keith."

He was too exhausted to feel guilty about the lie and called Miss Rose next.

"I'm very sorry to rouse you on a Sunday," he said. "But Tom and I are both down with the stomach flu. How afraid are you of infection? Would you take India into day care tomorrow anyway? It would be a great help."

"Is it one of those 24 hour bugs or did you eat something bad?" Rose asked.

"We suspect the bug," Chris said.

"For how long have you been sick?"

"Since this morning." Lies, lies, lies.

"If she doesn't have it until tomorrow morning, I'm taking her to day care," Miss Rose said. "Do you need anything? Should I run to the pharmacy for you?"

"No, thank you, we're fine," Chris said. "I'll send you a text around 8 so you know if you have to come around, then?"

"That's perfect, thank you so much."

"Sorry again for bothering you on a Sunday."

"Don't worry about it. Feel better!"

Chris turned off the phone all the way and put it aside. He burned his tongue on the hot tea and then gulped down the two sandwiches and a slice of apple from India's dish. Then dragged a pillow and a blanket over to where India was playing, wrapped himself into the fluffy cover and lay down by his daughter's side, completely done in.


	30. Love Like That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speaking with an old friend helps Tom gain a better perspective on his relationship with Chris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I completely misrepresented Benedict Cumberbatch. I think he's far naughtier in real life than I managed to portray him!

Tom microwaved the frozen beef and got out potatoes, onions and carrots. He set up a second, smaller, pot for India, whom he loved to cook for, filled both pots with water, and set them to heat. With the microwave signaling the beef thawed, he took it out and rinsed it under warm water, dried it with a paper towel, and set out to cut it in healthy chunks before plopping it into the respective pots, and seasoning it with a pinch of salt for India's dish, to bring out the flavor, and an assortment of spices for Chris and he, who both liked their stew hearty.

Tom washed his hands and dried them off and then went back to the living room to check on Chris. He found him curled up near India, one hand close to her body. The sandwiches were gone, and so was the tea. Tom could hardly tear himself away, but he had to go back to get the vegetables cut and into the pot.

His mind felt blank, like someone had scrubbed it, and he was still stunned.

He'd left the house in such a huff, had got into the car and driven off, so angry, so done with everything. And with each mile, the feeling of _wrong Wrong WRONG_ had intensified until it nearly suffocated him, until he'd turned back, and couldn't get home fast enough, the sense of urgency almost unbearable.

He'd taken the stairs four steps at a time, fully aware that he might completely embarrass himself, that he might be met with a smirking Chris who'd rub it in his face that obviously, he couldn't live without him, either. But he was ready to take that; if that was the case, he'd just pack his things and move out for a while, until things had somewhat settled, but he didn't think so.

And he'd been right.

Carrots and onions in the pot, Tom made another trip to the living room, finding things unchanged. This time, he collected the sandwich plate and Chris' cup, the noise causing Chris to peek at him from under the blanket. Tom raised the mug, and Chris nodded and looked pathetically thankful.

"It's fine," Tom just said. "Don't worry about it."

He carried the mug back into the kitchen, discovering that between him and Chris, they'd already emptied the tea pot, and started another. He cut and sliced potatoes while the water boiled and the tea steamed, adding a string of tomato paste to their stew. He tasted it, finding it needed more salt, and then covered the pot to let it do its thing.

He brought a fresh cup of tea and a couple of sweet biscuits to Chris and then went back to the kitchen to have his own. There were so many things going through his head, so many weird feelings bouncing about. He finally got out his phone and opened his messenger, typing out a quick text, and sending it off before he could think better of it. It was unlikely Ben was even awake at this hour, wherever he...

"On a flight to New Zealand bored out of my skull. You just saved my life."

Tom smiled, relief flooding his system.

"What's up?" Ben texted next. "Young love still going strong?"

That was an interesting question.

"Yes," Tom typed back and hit _send_. He took a sip of his tea and wondered how to say what he needed to say. "I need an ear."

"Say no more."

It didn't take three seconds for Tom's phone to ring. "Can you talk?" he asked.

"It's pretty quiet in first class," Ben said. "Besides, you said you needed an ear, so I can shut my gab."

"Heh." Tom played with his spoon. "Eventually, I'd like your advice. I guess."

"What's up?" Ben asked.

"What isn't," Tom said. "I don't know where to start." He felt tears come up again.

"Anywhere is fine." Ben's sonorous voice was a huge comfort. Just having someone listen was invaluable. "I've got time."

"You know how we... talked about relationships, and... falling in love. How to know who is right for you." They'd spent so many hours talking on that shoot for _War Horse_ , two young, eager actors on the cusp of something great, with such similar mindsets and interests and an infinite curiosity about the world and human nature and what made people tick.

"God knows I'm still looking," Ben said. "There always seems something missing."

"The one I've found pretty much covers all the bases," Tom said. "Pretty much everything.” He sighed and went for broke. “He is everything."

"Good for you." It sounded genuine.

"It's frightening," Tom said. He had no idea that was in his head. "To know you're made for each other."

"Not sure I understand."

"I wish I did." Tom took a tentative sip of his tea. "We don't do anything special but... keep breaking each other open and all this gunk spills out and then you have to keep cleaning it up and because no one else will understand, you're kind of stuck with each other and everything is between you and them. You keep looking for that perfect person and then you've found them and find sometimes you don't really want to be that perfect for them."

"Is he perfect for you?"

"Yes." He sounded so frustrated that he had to laugh about himself. "He's everything I could ever wish for in a man."

"Were you looking for one? A man, I mean?" Ben sounded genuinely curious. Tom knew he was 100% accepting of his being with Chris, but being a lifetime student of human nature would always make him want to peek behind the scenes, figuring out what made people do what they did. Tom was the same way, so he didn't mind.

"Not consciously," Tom said.

"Do you think you'd find what you're looking for in a woman now?"

Tom grinned. It was a pained grin but it was one. "No," he said. "Like I said, he is everything."

"That's a lot to be for someone else."

"God knows it is. I find it very uncomfortable, the other way around," Tom confessed. "Everything I do is having an effect on him. I can't be comfortable when he isn't. I _know_ when he needs me, even when I'm miles away."

"It's the kind of relationship everyone dreams of," Ben said appreciatively. "But it doesn't sound very dreamy when you describe it."

"It's hard," Tom said. "You're never done, and you're never alone."

"Is the sex good, at least?" Ben asked, honing in on the important parts.

Tom laughed. "Yeah."

"Not like I'm gay, but I can appreciate the aesthetic value of..."

"Oh, the built like a Greek god bit?" Tom interrupted him. His nostrils flared and he hummed appreciatively. "Oh yeah. Finally the double firsts in Classics is paying off."

"Four years of Cambridge education finally coming to a head," Ben teased. "And they told you you'd never have a use for it."

They both giggled. It felt really good.

"You're making me smile, mate. I really needed that."

"I'll call you as a consultant next time I'm playing a gay man," Ben said.

"You don't get mine to practice on."

"I had such high hopes."

Tom chuckled. "Nu-uh, he's mine. Hands off."

Ben laughed. "Not even for research purposes?"

"No." Tom had to laugh about his own strictness. "Mine."

"That sounds so good," Ben said. "To be able to say something like that about someone else."

"It is," Tom said. "And at the same time... I... don't think I ever realized how much responsibility it puts on you. You have someone else's heart in your hands."

"And they have yours?" Ben probed.

"Eh... yeah." Tom puzzled over that. Then he said, "No."

"No?"

"I took it back," Tom said. "Things are so complicated right now that I can't risk it."

Ben was quiet with him. Tom could hear the sound of the airplane's engines through the phone and found it incredibly soothing.

"He takes everything," Tom said. "Like I'm some rummage sale that he can just walk in and pick and choose what he likes. I think my own generous nature is kicking me in the butt right now. I was so deliriously happy about finding him that I just threw everything at him that I had. I just said yes to everything."

"And now you wish you could take it all back?"

"He's still the love of my life," Tom said. "God, Ben, he's... everything. I don't want to lose him. But I don't want to lose me, either. I love myself too much for that."

"My parents have had a long, healthy, and as far as I can see, loving relationship," Ben said. "I don't know if that makes me an expert. Maybe, to be honest, it sets my expectations to high."

"I had none," Tom chuckled deprecatingly. "I kind of knew what I didn't want, that kind of polite but respectable thing where everyone's opinions are more important than what you feel." He'd certainly blew that one out of the water..

"What I'm trying to say, is – they've had this decades long, dedicated, strong relationship, but it doesn't mean they've always liked each other all the time," Ben said. "Loved, yes, no doubt about that. But I guess if you dare to grow in your relationship, there will be times when you're out of sync and things will be upset for a while. But isn't that the kind of thing a thinking man should strive for? To keep growing with and through his mate?"

"Do you believe in us?" Tom asked, then realized what a childish question that was. Ben had never seen Chris and him together, he only knew his side, and since he wasn't very forthcoming with details, how could he possibly form an opinion?

"I want to believe in that kind of love, yes," Ben said. "I'm looking for it, myself."

"Beware of tigers," Tom said wryly. "Don't jump in too fast."

"But we want to jump in and be fully immersed," Ben said. "That's the kind of men that we are. Do it with all your heart or don't do it at all."

"And then find yourself too far in for your own good," Tom said. "Oh, I shouldn't gripe."

"Tom, how can I help?" Ben asked. "Is it just a temporary thing or are you looking for reasons to break up?"

"I'm not looking for reasons to break up. I love that man. He loves me back the way I've never been loved before," Tom said. Every word he said was true. The mere thought of Chris in the living room right now, so weak, hurting, and confused, was breaking his heart. A part of him certainly wanted nothing but be there with him, hold him, and comfort him, make it easier somehow. But that tank was empty. Chris had completely depleted it, had sucked up the iron reserve, and now there was simply nothing left to give. Maybe what Chris needed couldn't come from him. Maybe sometimes telling someone No was the greater gift. "But this love thing, it's fucking complicated," he said. "When you're that close to someone who is that strong, like Chris, all your shortcomings and weaknesses are out there in glaring light. You don't get to hide anything. Either you accept and love yourself for every part of yourself or you are going down."

"I think we do choose our teachers," Benedict said. "Men like you and me aren't happy in a relationship that just somehow works."

"Neither is Chris," Tom said.

"I guess that's your answer," Ben said. "You make me feel sorry I'm not gay."

"Ah, Ben." Tom laughed. "I happen to think Chris is pretty extraordinary for the male species. Good luck finding one of your own."

"Thank you," Ben said.

"Have I put you off that love thing?" Tom wanted to know.

"No," Ben said. "I'm envious of your struggles. They reek of commitment and eternity."

"The clashes of Titans."

"Yes. You two are playing gods for a reason." Something rustled on Ben's end. "So when can I observe that epic love in person?"

"For research."

"Purely."

"Are you home for Christmas?"

"Should be. Yes."

"We're leaving for LA the Sunday before Christmas," Tom said. "Sunday night, as far as I know. Want to come by that Saturday?"

"I'll put it in my calendar," Ben said. "Does that delightful little girl still live with you?"

"India? Yeah."

"You are a very lucky man, Tom Hiddleston."

"People keep telling me."

"Probably time to believe it, yourself."

 

* * *

 

"India and I are going for a walk."

Chris must have fallen asleep, or at least dozed off. Tom sat before him, legs crossed, a very spry India in his lap.

"She needs a bit of exercise and fresh air, Chris," Tom said.

"Lunch...?" Chris asked.

"I put it on low, it should be fine for an hour," Tom said. "Not much we can do while it finishes cooking." He bounced India.

Chris furrowed his brow. "Are you sure? I'm... really..."

"India and I are going," Tom said. "Of course you can stay here. You could stir the pot every twenty minutes or so...?"

Chris gave him a look and groaned as he sat up. "Headache."

"I'm going up to get India into her overall," Tom said. "We're leaving in ten minutes."

Chris held his head in both hands, feeling awful. The day rushed back at him; the talk with his mother, his father's gruffness on the phone, Tom leaving, the panic attack, the flashback, Tom coming back for him... doctor... India throwing up... Just curling up and whimpering sounded like a really, really good idea.

But Tom was leaving again.

An ice cold hand gripped his heart.

Of course he could... try... staying. Maybe with the sedative. Or he could just whip his own ass into motion, get dressed, have some water and an Advil and go outside with his boyfriend and his daughter.

Groaning, he got up.

  
* * *

 

Tom opted to take the pushchair for India. Seeing her all bundled up in her little furs was too adorable for words. Chris livened up and took a bunch of photos of Tom in his gray coat, pushing India around. It was really cold and the sun didn't quite come through, but it didn't diminish India's mood whatsoever.

They set off towards the park. Both of Tom's hands were on the handle bar, and then Chris took over, leaving Tom to run ahead and make faces at India. He ended up chasing Tom with the pushchair, which India found great fun, and they drew quite a few startled looks as they entered the park that way.

Tom was right, it was great out, and walking helped a great deal. A few stalls with Christmas memorabilia and sweet things had set up near the kiosk, and Chris took India out of her chair to show everything to her. Tom bought candied apples and roasted almonds, which were still warm, to tide them over until lunch while India gnawed on a baby biscuit in Chris' lap. Chris kept her on his arm as they walked to a less busy part of the park, and his world slowly started to come into focus again.

He'd been pretty stupid.

To put all of this in danger in favor of figuring out things that should have rather stayed buried. He had no idea if his father had ever told his mother about the incident, and he'd just brought it into the middle of their lives, upsetting everything. Upsetting his life and love with Tom for this... this unsavory truth about his childhood that he had conveniently forgotten. That should have stayed in the past, for all he cared.

"May I hold your hand?" he asked Tom shyly, his voice still rough from all the crying and the grief and the pain and then not talking at all. He could see that Tom had to think about it, but then he nodded like he meant it. He didn't smile, though, or encourage him, and he didn't hold his hand out for Chris, either. Chris had to step closer and take it, very gently, into his own gloved hand, leaving Tom to have to steer the pushchair one-handedly, which he managed remarkably well. He wanted to ask him why he'd come back, but he didn't dare. He wanted to know what would happen next, but he didn't dare ask that, either. He'd just blown his own memories of being safe and secure, growing up, to smithereens, and his whole future lay with this man. It was way past time to stop his self-destruction.

He didn't let go of Tom's hand, even when they got back into the busier parts of the park. India started fussing and he settled her back into the chair with another biscuit, but it was clear she was tired and hungry. He took over at the pushchair's handle, but reached out for Tom's hand again. He just needed him close, even if that meant running zig-zag when he lost control of the chair or walking sideways when they had to make space for people coming at them on the sidewalk, and Tom having to walk behind him for a moment.

The flat was warm and smelled delicious when they came home. Tom took his coat and boots off and then excused himself for the kitchen, leaving Chris to deal with India. He brought her upstairs for a change of diapers and more comfortable clothes, then returned with her to the kitchen.

"She's really hungry," he said apologetically. "Honestly, so am I. Is dinner ready, or should we fix something else?"

"Judge for yourself." Tom stepped away from the oven and held out a spoon.

Chris took it and dipped it into the creamy looking stew. His eyes lit up. "This is the best stew _ever_!"

"It was a great idea," Tom said. "Fits the cold weather. Do you want to get India bibbed and into her chair?"

No five minutes later, they all sat at the table. Tom had pureed some potatoes, carrots and beef for India, but left some of the vegetables cubed for her to grab and eat by herself. She was immediately busy stuffing her face with them, leaving Tom and Chris to empty a first bowl before having to attend to the baby. The stew was hearty and filling and so good for the soul. Chris had three servings and made sure there was still some left over for later by walking over to the oven and taking a look into the pot, himself. True to Tom's word, they should be able to have dinner on it, as well. It suited Chris just fine.

  
* * *

 

They were cleaning up when Tom reminded him of the sedative.

"You promised you'd have one with lunch."

He thought about arguing for a split second and then simply went and took one of the tablets. They all settled on the sofa together and Tom turned on a cartoon on TV. The sedative spread through Chris' system, making him drowsy.

"Are you feeling all right?" Tom asked.

Chris gestured lazily with his hand. "It's still all there, I just don't care," he said. "Weird."

"No long-term solution, then?" Tom asked.

"I'll take it if it makes you feel better," he said sincerely.

"It's supposed to make you feel better, dummy," Tom said fondly, running a hand through his hair. "I think we all need a time-out from the intensity." In a lower voice. "I know I do."

"I love you," It finally burst out of Chris. "I never meant to hurt you, Tom."

Tom didn't answer immediately, playing with the yawning baby's feet. "Let me take her up."

"I can do it."

Tom laughed gently. "Your eyelids are on half mast, mister. Go curl up. I'll be right back."

"You just hope I'll be asleep by the time you come down," Chris said. "Tough luck." But he did use the sudden free space on the sofa to stretch out, and cuddled himself into a blanket.

He opened his eyes at some point to Tom sitting on the floor, his back against the sofa, reading his pages again. He only noticed that Chris was awake when he was finished and put them aside.

"Hey," Tom said. "Why are you awake?"

"Just want to look at you." It was a bit like looking through a fog, but not unpleasantly so.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart."

"With you?"

"I'll be right here, Chris. I'm not going anywhere. I promise. If you wake up and you can't see me right away, just call. I'll probably be on the loo."

"Funny." Chris reached out to him and was happy when Tom took his hand.

"I love you," Tom said.

"Love you more," Chris mumbled drowsily.

"No doubt you do." He felt Tom's hand in his hair again and purred. Tom chuckled. "Go to sleep," he told him with a little more emphasis.

"Tom, will you forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive," Tom soothed. "Just doing better tomorrow. Okay?"

"It's over now."

"Hm?"

Chris shrugged. He'd forgotten what he'd been thinking about, and he felt so heavy and sleepy.

He only realized that he'd drifted off when he felt Tom leaning over him, kissing his cheek.

"Shhh," Tom made. “Go back to sleep, love.”

"Tom."

"It's okay, my heart. Just rest."

"I never meant to hurt you, please believe me."

"I believe you." He could taste Tom's breath on his lips as he whispered. "I'm sorry I'm not stronger, honey. I'm sorry I can't support you the way you need me to. I wish I could carry you through all of your heartaches. I wish I could make it all better without you hurting so much."

"You just need to be you," Chris mumbled. "More than enough for me." He felt Tom's sob against his body and drew him close. "I love you so much, Tom."

"I love you, too."

He fell asleep knowing he was safe, and Tom was right there with him.

* * *

 

The sedative proved a huge help.

Combined with the exhaustion from his flashback, his talk with his mother, and Tom leaving on him, it knocked Chris right out and let him sleep for a good two and a half hours. He woke ravenous, and they had the rest of the stew with India, who was delighted that both men were home and paid so much attention to her. She seemed to feel that Chris needed gentle attention, because she didn't want to budge from his side and cuddled and flirted extensively with him, happy to be read to and held.

Around eight, Chris decided to take her, and himself, for a bath. Tom helped run it and waited for father and daughter to get in. He put a number of fluffy towels on the radiator rack to warm and fetched India's bath toys – her favorite toy and main source of glee being, of course, her father.

He left the door slightly open, assuring them that he was in calling distance, then used the time to clean up the kitchen, the routine tasks soothing his nerves. He felt in as much of a sedative bubble as Chris; the outside world of little consequence. They had to concentrate on healing themselves, on healing each other, on healing their relationship.

Suddenly, Tom's phone buzzed, and he dried his sudsy hands before fishing it out of his pocket. He looked at the caller ID and grimaced. It was Fiona.

It seemed like ages ago that they had talked to her, and her call wasn't welcome. He sighed. It couldn't be helped. He took the call.

“Tom here."

"Hello Tom," Fiona said. "We are trying to reach Chris, but he doesn't pick up his phone. Can you help?"

"Uh." Tom rubbed the bridge of his nose. "He must have turned it off."

"Is he there? We'd like to speak to him, if he could call us back."

Tom blew out a humorless breath and sat down by the table. "He's taking a bath with India," he said. "It's bad timing right now. What's this about?"

"Um... we'd... like to speak with him personally, if that's okay," Fiona obfuscated.

"No, it's not," Tom informed her calmly. "What's this about?"

Puzzled silence on the other end. "Tom, um... we'd... this is really rather between Chris and his father."

"It certainly is," Tom said. "And I'm not letting him speak with Chris until Chris feels better."

"I'm not... sure that's your decision," Fiona said, slightly piqued.

"Funny," Tom said. "If I remember correctly, you put me in charge of your son's welfare. Repeatedly. And I'm saying he's not ready to deal with this right now."

Again, silence. Then: "Tom, maybe we got off on the wrong foot on this," Fiona said. "Of course you know what it's about, you've been on the phone with Chris last night. I heard you helped Chris initiate a conversation with his dad. We are really grateful for that. But Greg needs to talk with Chris, get a few things cleared up."

"But Chris doesn't need to talk with Greg right now," Tom said.

"Tom, that's just..." She blew out a breath. "Not your place."

Tom laughed humorlessly. "You knew what Chris was fighting with. You knew what was wrong with him. Your words were that Chris had chosen me to do this with, no one else. You left both of us completely alone with something you _knew_ had gone wrong when Chris was younger. Do you have any idea what kind of agony Chris has been in the past few weeks, remembering it all bit by bit, and dealing with his whole life turning upside down? Do you have any idea what it's been doing to us, to our relationship?"

"I tried to talk to him," Fiona said. "Many times while he was growing up."

"Did you know Greg beat him with his a belt the night they brought you to the hospital?" Tom asked, his voice acerbic."For being fourteen years old and not able to handle Liam on his own?"

Fiona's voice was choked. "Not until last night."

"Neither did Chris. He's buried it all somewhere and had a huge nervous breakdown over remembering today. He's in no condition to deal with his father," Tom said.

"We were up all night, talking," Fiona said. "Greg's feeling horrible about it and wants to make amends."

"You take care of your husband, and I'll take care of mine," Tom said decisively. "I'm telling you, if Chris has to take one more off thing, he's going to end up in a psych ward somewhere. Back off for a while, leave him alone. He has enough on his plate just getting through the day without you adding to it right now."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"That's okay, I have nothing to say, either," Tom said. "Nothing I'd want to repeat, anyway."

"Okay, then... Please give Chris our best. Let us know when you need help."

"Right now, the best help would be for you to back off," Tom said bluntly. "I'll tell Chris you called when I feel he can deal with it, but right now, I'm just glad when he makes it through the day."

"I'm sorry. We're sorry."

"I'll be sure to tell him," Tom said. "Goodbye."

He hung up, for just the slightest moment not quite sure if he hadn't overdone it. Then he remembered that two of the most intelligent men he knew had told him today that he was enough, and there was no reason to keep holding back on who he was and how he loved.

"Epic love," Tom said to himself and nodded. "The clashes of Titans."

He pocketed his phone and went back to taking care of the dishes.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't like things were suddenly all clear and happy between the two of them, either. Having a knocked-out Chris pining for closeness was one thing, and feeling sorry for what he'd been put through wasn’t very hard, either. But things had happened between both men that made dealing with each other treacherous, to say the least, and Tom was still not quite sure how to deal with all the trapdoors and pitfalls.

He had no trouble whatsoever helping out where he could, but he was quite resolved to never let Chris hurt him or put him down again, no matter how shitty he felt.

When India was in bed, Chris curled up on the sofa again.

"Take another tablet," Tom suggested.

"It's okay," Chris said.

"It's not optional," Tom said. "Take another."

Chris gave him a hurt look but he did as he was told, gulping it down with some water. He was clearly miffed, but the sedative kicked in fairly soon and put him into a more mellow mood. Tom breathed a sigh of relief.

"Your mother called earlier," he said, daring to broach the subject now that he knew the medication was working. "They must have tried your phone first, that's why I'm telling you."

Fear and insecurity was instantly visible in Chris' face. "Yeah?"

"She said she's been up all night with your dad," Tom explained. "Apparently, she didn't know what happened between you and him when she was brought to the hospital."

Chris rubbed at a nonexistent mark on his blanket. "So?"

"I told them you'd call them back when you feel you're up to it," Tom said.

Chris blinked at him, unsure. "Right now?"

"Do you feel like listening to what your dad has to say about that night?" Tom asked gently.

Chris shook his head, but he still looked very unsure.

Tom sighed and got up from his spot on the recliner. "Scoot," he told his lover, plopping down beside him when he did.

Chris gave him a look and then dared to lean against him tentatively. When Tom put an arm around his shoulders, he sighed happily and snuggled into the embrace all the way.

"You're no better than India," Tom complained.

"She must have it from someone," Chris said, sounding not at all apologetic.

"I love you." Tom placed a kiss on Chris' temple.

Chris carefully put a hand on Tom's knee and rubbed it gently.

"How are you feeling?" Tom asked.

"Ugh," Chris said. "Not sure, Tom."

"Is the sedative helping?" Tom asked.

Chris shrugged. "It's taking the edge off," he said. "I don't like that it makes me so slow."

"I think slow is exactly what you need right now," Tom said. "I know I do."

"I'll take it if you want me to," Chris said. "I don't want to keep hurting you."

"I don't want you to keep hurting me, either," Tom said. He was quite aware that wasn't what Chris wanted to hear but it was so the truth. "There are two left, honey. The packet says they each last four to six hours, with your bulk, I'm thinking more like four. Take the remaining two tomorrow and then talk with Michael on what he thinks is necessary to help you."

"He just had me do exercises," Chris said. "I was so freaked out when you left today..."

"I'm sorry I scared you," Tom said. "But you were incredibly insensitive and I couldn't stand it any longer."

"It's hard to think of anything else when you're so freaked out," Chris said. "It's like everything is focusing on..."

"Chris." Tom was tired of the bullshit. He sighed. "Cut the excuses."

It was very quiet for a while. Chris was just playing with Tom's hand. Tom had no idea what was going through his mind. Maybe he'd drifted off on the sedative again. That would be okay, too.

"I'm so tired of fighting," Chris finally said.

"But it's not going away on its own," Tom insisted. He consciously tried not to say more than absolutely necessary. It was a struggle. He loved to illustrate and exemplify. The words so wanted out, he had to bite his tongue. "You saying that you can very well hear that I need you but you don't care really hurt me."

"That was mean," Chris said, very subdued. "It sounds awful."

"It really hurt," Tom acknowledged. Again, he had to keep himself from going into detail just why it hurt that much, in that moment.

"I know it will sound like an excuse again," Chris tried. "But it really is the truth that when I'm so... busy figuring things out, I have a really hard time not being an idiot towards you. I know I can... I'm usually capable of sounding you out, and..." he smiled sadly... "I know you love the attention when I do. But when all those feelings are all over the place in here..." He indicated his chest. "It's like nothing else exists."

"That's exactly how it feels," Tom says. "As if I don't even exist." He took his hand away from Chris and shifted to make space between them. Again, he so wanted to go into detail about how unfair it was, since he was the only person Chris was currently leaning on, and who was actually helping him. The only unpaid person, at least. But he didn't, letting his body and the distance between them say what he needed to say.

Chris was very quiet after that. The silence went on and on. Tom waited patiently, just checking every now and then if his lover hadn't fallen asleep on him on the sedative. That would be a bit of a bummer right now.

"I'm trying to figure it out," Chris said. "Sometimes when I'm thinking about something important, I can't finish the thought. Something in here keeps me from thinking it all the way." He tapped his head. "Like I'm not supposed to go there yet."

"Are they all in one common area?" Tom asked. This actually intrigued him.

"Eh." Chris grimaced. "I'm... having a hard time... focusing on... now," he tried. His expression showed that he wasn't happy with what he was saying yet. "Kind of like if I don't... that's awful, Tom." He rolled his eyes.

Tom shrugged. "It's a start?"

"Kind of... if I don't... realize... don't focus on... don't put everything into what you mean to me, then... this is so stupid."

Tom didn't say anything, letting Chris figure it out. Chris reached over to take his hand again, and he let him have it, knowing that Chris was really trying.

"If I don't focus on just how much you mean to me... it's... less frightening that way. Focusing on everything else makes... standing this... easier." He carded his own fingers through Tom's, making him shiver. "Like putting you last... acting like I don't care how you feel... making everything more important than you." He gave Tom a blindingly sincere look. "Look at all the things I've done for you, to have you," he said. "Sometimes it scares me, the things I'm willing to do to be with you.” He grimaced, obviously not happy about what would come out next, but he said it, anyway. "Agonizing you and getting you to kick me around, or hurt me back, that's all easier when things get stressful," he said quietly. "But I am really working on that, Tom. I don't want to keep hurting you."

"I know, honey."

"That makes it so hard to be public with you, too," Chris said. "I'm not just holding your hand. I'm peeling back every bit of protection around my heart, for everyone to see."

Tom thought about the talk he'd had with Ben this afternoon. How talking through incredibly high concepts of love, belonging, and commitment did never feel strange with Ben, because he understood, because he was made from the same spirit, cut from the same cloth of soul. How niggly details like whether you came out when and to who, and what kind of affection you showed to whom were really completely inconsequential and nothing but distraction when it came to love like this.

Ben had been absolutely, completely right, with everything he'd said, by simply understanding what kind of a man Tom was and what kind of love he was capable of – and in turn, Chris as well.

"But I think it's time to do that," Chris said. "Because all my distraction tactics do nothing but hurt everyone. And I'm so tired of fighting." He lifted Tom's hand to his lips and then looked at him, and Tom felt like some sort of gong was ringing in his head. _Felled by Mjolnir_ , he thought wryly. _Good god, that blue is out of this world._ He completely missed what Chris said next, and had to ask him to repeat his words.

"How do you do it?" Chris asked him again, quite sincerely. "How do you deal with it?"

"Less... ahem." He had to clear his throat. "Less wrestling, I guess. Apart from wanting to kill you half the time, that helps, too."

"Less wrestling?"

"With the feelings," Tom said. "I just sit quietly with them. I pour them into the time we have together. I don't heave and haw. They are what they are." He shrugged. "I feel like I've arrived at a destination I've had no idea I was looking for. I arrived and everything went quiet and started to make sense." He sighed. "Or it would, if it wasn't for you."

It made Chris laugh. "That's a contradiction."

"Like you aren't," Tom protested. His treacherous heart was beating faster as soon as Chris paid real attention to him. He felt himself turn towards his lover as if Chris was the sun, and he a flower. He observed his reaction with a mental eye roll while showing his inner observer the finger at the same time. He really didn't want to think right now.

"Wow," Chris said. Apparently, he felt it, too. The childlike wonder on his face was completely irresistible.

"It's the drugs," Tom protested feebly.

"You didn't take any."

"I didn't say anything, Chris."

"What were we talking about?"

Ah. Time to return to reality. "We talked about how unfunny it is how you keep ignoring me and my needs."

"That seems pretty stupid right now."

"Don't try everything at once," Tom said gently. "You have a lot of healing to do."

  
* * *

  
They conked out on the sofa, watching a movie, and Tom kind of managed to get them up and into bed around midnight. It was a good thing they were both way too exhausted and drowsy for anything to happen, so negotiating how they would sleep was just too much of a hassle. They were both naked, as always. They cuddled under one duvet, as always. Their bodies touched from tip to toe, as always.

And they immediately fell asleep, more than ready to leave this day behind.


	31. Inventory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Tom make the most of an India-free morning together. Later, Chris tries to make sense of his weekend struggles in a session with Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who is still reading. I take a little bow whenever someone leaves a Kudos. It is all very much appreciated. I had no idea this story would become the monster it is now and I'm grateful to everyone who's still sticking it out with me!

Toes... wiggling. Kneecaps... tucked behind Tom's. Crotch... hmm.. pressed against Tom's ass. Belly... flush with Tom's back. Arms... around Tom. Nose... tickled by Tom's hair.

Sum: Life checks out.

_Tom on a run unhappy fight Tom fight Chris paper slips cuddling hurt phone family dad mom Tom hurt Tom leave life shit._

Baby.

Chris struggled, having the hardest time coming to the surface from all of the last day's impressions rushing at him at once.

"Time...?" he mumbled.

"Six thirty." Tom's voice sounded as rough as his own. "Go back to sleep, India."

Chris focused on the sounds she was making. "Full diaper."

"Meh." Tom pulled the duvet over his head.

Apparently, it was his turn. Still half asleep, Chris regretfully peeled himself away from his lover. He wrapped himself into a robe and tucked on some slippers. His consciousness started supplying him with more details of the previous day as he trudged through the dimly lit living room up the stairs. Horrible details. Of memories that no one wanted to have. Of memories that he didn't want to look at right this moment. Of memories that would change the way he would look at his childhood forever.

He grabbed one of the remaining tablets on his way to the kitchen with India later. He carried her in a sling, tucked against his naked chest, and had the sedative while the water for India's bottle boiled. By the time he settled with her on the sofa, the sight of his scribbled on stack of paper merely piqued his interest, but it couldn't rouse his emotions. He leaned over to retrieve his phone while India drank, turning it on to type a quick message to Miss Rose to please get India at 9. There were like what seemed to be a dozen notifications of calls and messages by his parents. He summarily deleted them all and focused solely on his daughter's breakfast.

Tom refused to leave the bedroom until after Miss Rose had picked up the baby. Chris brought breakfast, peeled off the clothes he'd put on for decency's sake and crawled into Tom's arms. It was their first baby-free day since Chris had picked her up from Elsa's friend Becky's house more than four weeks ago. Tom didn't care what the fuck their issues were at that moment. Chris' cock slid between his thighs like it belonged there, and his dense body against his own was taking Tom's breath away. Their lips found each other like those of drowning people gasping for air, and finding it in each other. Chris made excruciatingly slow love to him, savoring every thrust and every gasp until his hot semen pulsed between Tom's legs, and his long fingers coaxed Tom's cock until it spilled between them, as well. He bathed their bellies in it, his breath mingling with Tom's as he savored his taste again and again. They started sticking to each other and squelching and, laughing softly, drawing the moment out, finally decided to take a shower together after all.

Tom took the lube with him and, cleaning Chris thoroughly from the inside-out, used it to coat his cock, away from the spray, and took Chris deep. He was as gentle as he possibly could, but the deep connection broke them both. Chris was on his knees, whimpering and crying with each thrust, with Tom crouched over him, feeling like he could taste Chris' heartbeat with the tip of his cock. He filled him deep and true and held him close until his softening cock slipped out with a gush of his seed. And if he could have, he would have gone in again right away, but his body betrayed him, and all he could do was hold Chris until the aftershocks lessened and he slowly came back to.

Their breakfast was cold when they returned to the bedroom.

Tom bedded his lover in the living room like a princess and waited on him hand and foot. They feasted on each other as if they hadn't made love in centuries. Tom covered his lover's body in stripes of honey and licked it off with leisure, ending up with his cock between his legs, and Chris bucking and sweating under him, and then he licked off the stripes of Chris' come, instead. They were sweaty and sticky and delirious with sex when they pulled their fluffiest blanket over them and took the most well-earned nap of all times, Tom draped over his lover, his ear pressed to his heart.

They had spoken less than ten sentences that morning.

  
* * *

 

Tom felt refreshed and determined when he woke up after his nap. They both giggled over the fact that Tom's belly stuck to Chris' and made a completely indecent noise when he tried to get free.

"Don't get up," Chris said. "Stay with me."

Tom was content to settle, looking up at Chris, his chin propped up on his wrist. "What do you want with me?"

He felt Chris' chest lifting him as he drew a deep breath. "That was so nice," he said.

"Hm." Tom placed a kiss on the skin closest to him.

"I keep thinking of where we could give India more often," Chris said.

"I think this is going to be it while we film together," Tom said. "We have such long days; it's really unfair towards her to expect her to be in care even longer."

"I know." Chris' fingertips gently rubbed at Tom's scalp. "But it's really nice to have you to myself."

"Are you jealous of India?" Tom asked, smiling.

"Not really. I just don't like to share you."

"Uh-huh."

"You know what I mean."

"There's always L.A.," Tom pointed out. "I'm sure your parents will love to babysit her for a day."

"Eh. Yeah." Another deep sigh. "I'd just forgotten."

"It'll be all right," Tom said. "I know it will. Your parents love you so much, Chris. I just wanted to get them off you last night because you were doing so badly."

"I have a knack for taking on way too much," Chris said. "Like one catastrophe is going to be less catastrophic if I quickly start another."

"Are you calling me a catastrophe?" Tom asked facetiously.

"No." Chris shifted and rolled them on their sides, trapping Tom between his body and the back of the sofa. He smiled. "You're just the reason I blow everything up."

Tom stopped him when Chris tried to kiss him. "I never asked you to do any of this," he said quietly. "You don't get to punish me for choosing me over your old life."

"Tom, I didn't mean it like that."

"Then don't say things like that," Tom said. He shifted, and pushed Chris on his back. "It fucking hurts." He clambered up, but he had to climb over Chris to get away.

"Tom." Chris held him. "Don't just leave. Let's talk about this. I didn't mean it that way."

"Just fucking think before you open your mouth," Tom said, pulling free and getting up. "I'm so tired of having to take this shit from you. It's not like you don't know what you're saying. You just keep blabbing because you think I'll keep taking it. I'm done with that."

"Tom, I was trying to tell you... I was trying to make fun of my tendency to..." He looked desperate. "Ah hell, okay, that was... stupid. Uncalled for. Bleargh." He stuck out his tongue. "Gah." He crossed his arms over his head and shook it vigorously. "Stupid stpuid stupid."

"I'm going to wash up and dress." It was an impressive spectacle but Tom had no patience for it. Not after it happening so many times.

They'd been naked when they came to the living room earlier, so he walked off the same way, closing the bathroom door behind him. He needed a trip to the loo anyway, and used a wet washcloth to give himself a cat bath to get rid of the more obvious signs of the morning.

It had felt good to get that out, relieve the sexual tension between them, and just be so damn physical with Chris, instead of fighting with him about feelings and ideas all the time. Apparently, fucking the stupid out of someone did not work, however. Reacting right away and not letting Chris continue his abuse felt pretty good.

Chris was waiting in the bedroom for him.

"I'm an asshole," he said.

Tom just gave him a look and went in search of something to wear.

"Is there something I can do right?" Chris lamented.

Tom completely ignored his self-indulgent tantrum. "I'm going to have to work for a bit," he said. "I can do it in here or up on the computer on the gallery. I'd like upstairs better, to be honest, 'cause I need to spread out a bit."

"What do you want to work on?" Chris asked, not happy about the prospect.

"I have a stack of scripts to go through," Tom said. "I've kept putting it off because there was so much going on at home, with us. But I don't have a single engagement yet for the coming year and I've had a few offers coming in for a theater run that I've been looking for. So, yeah, I need to make a few calls and write a few mails and get a few things read." He looked at the alarm clock on the night stand. "And it's so late already. Your appointment is at five and we need to leave early."

He could literally see whole arguments play out on Chris' expressive face. First he wanted to pout, then whine, then act hurt and defensive. It would've been funny if it wasn't grating so much on Tom's nerves.

"What would you like for lunch?" Chris finally said.

"What?"

"You mentioned a lot of work but you need to eat," Chris pointed out. "I can fix us something."

"That would... actually be really nice, thank you." Tom smiled at him.

"Just come down and have it with me in the kitchen, please?" Chris asked.

"In about two hours?" Tom suggested. "I'd like to make an inroad on that stack of work before I take a break."

"I'll bring you a snack up to tide you over," Chris said. "And tea."

"Thank you." Tom stepped closer and kissed him. "That is really kind of you."

 

* * *

 

Chris didn't feel like doing anything, himself. He'd made the bed and straightened out the living room, and started a load of laundry, and now he was on his back again, on the sofa, feeling the last tablet spread through his system. He'd have to make decisions and be present later today, and he felt like doing none of these things. He wasn't ready yet for life to just go on.

What the hell was wrong with him? This morning had been a gift. They were great with each other when it came to sex, but as soon as he'd opened his mouth, he'd ruined everything again. He didn't want to believe that he wasn't ready for intimacy yet, because that was just too cruel a thing to fathom. But he was certainly on a self-destructive path when it came to being with Tom. Which was bad enough as it was, but worse for taking it out on Tom constantly.

Chris pulled the pillow over his head and shut out the rest of the world.

 

* * *

 

"I'd like to stay home another day," he confessed over lunch with Tom. The tablet, and the rest by himself, had really made a difference.

"What if they call me in?" Tom asked.

Chris drew a grimace. "That's why I need to talk to you first," he said. "I don't feel like I can stay at home by myself yet."

"You want me to stay in with you for another day?"

Chris nodded tightly. "I know I haven't earned it," he said, stirring listlessly in his food.

"Nevermind that," Tom said. "Why do you want to stay in?"

"Eh." He'd hoped Tom would just say yes or no. "I'm too exhausted to even answer that question," he said. "Is that an answer? I don't know."

"It pretty much is," Tom admitted.

"I'm so tired of saving the world," Chris said quietly into his salad. "Just for once I want to concentrate on what's really important." He picked at a leaf with his fork. "Right now that's getting better, and taking care of myself."

"That sounds very reasonable." Tom said. "If you message Keith, I'll stay here with you."

Chris gave him a thankful smile. "Thank you," he said. "I really appreciate it."

 

* * *

 

Miss Rose was supposed to bring India after her afternoon nap and a snack. But first India's nap ran long, and then rush hour was keeping the cab stuck in traffic, so when 4:30 rolled around, they had to make a decision.

"We can either redirect her to Michael's office, or I'm staying here to wait for them," Tom said. "Since we're supposed to be really sick, so sick that we won't be able to go in tomorrow, I think waiting for her here would be the better option."

"I can go alone," Chris said.

"Honey, are you sure?"

Chris didn't know if it was a sign of him getting better or a sign of him getting really nervous that Tom's constant mothering started to get a little on his nerves. "Yeah," he said. "Okay, maybe not super sure. But it's from here to there, 20 min max. And... you'll pick me up?" Okay, maybe not too uppity, then.

"Definitely," Tom assured him. "You'll probably pass Miss Rose's cab when you wait for yours outside. We'll be right behind you. I'll send you a text as soon as we leave here, okay?"

Ten minutes later, Chris sat in the cab on his way to Michael's office, all his notes with him. Just before he arrived, Tom called him.

"Honey, India needs a quick diaper change and I'm packing a few extra toys for her. How are you?"

"Okay," Chris said. "Almost there. Super nervous."

"We'll be right out the door, I promise."

"Okay. Thank you." His mouth was very dry.

"We love you," Tom assured him. "We'll still love you when you come out in an hour."

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "We're there. Love you, too."

"You can do it," Tom said. But India was crying in the background. "I've got to go, but I'm thinking of you all the way."

"Thank you. Talk to you soon." They were stopping in front of the office building and he hung up.

It was so interesting that now that Tom finally paid the attention to him that he'd been vying for all this time, what he really wanted to do is take a deep breath and start standing on his own two feet again. Be the husband that Tom deserved. Be the man that he would recognize when he looked into the mirror. His insides were still shaking from everything that happened, and that would take a while to subside. But at least he was hacking at the walls of the pit he'd fallen into, not curling up in it, giving up.

 

* * *

 

"So – how have you been since we talked on Saturday?" Michael asked when they'd both sat down.

"Not so great," Chris admitted, patting the envelope he'd brought with him. "Most of it is in here."

"Does it feel safe in there?" Michael asked.

Chris shrugged. "Things happened so fast this weekend that I have no idea about half of the things that are in that envelope."

"What sticks out in your mind?" Michael asked.

"How helpless I've felt," Chris said. "So many times this weekend, and today, that I just thought, _why_?"

"Why what?"

"Why am I doing this?" Chris tried. "Why am I trying to do everything at once... have everyone upset around me with the things... with my things?" He looked up at Michael. "Why is all of this so difficult?"

"And are you finding any answers?" Michael asked.

"I'm so sick of analyzing everything. I'm just angry," Chris said. "Isn't that enough?"

Michael didn't say anything, letting him figure it out by himself.

"My father hit me with a belt the night my mother went back to the hospital," Chris said.

"Which night was that?"

"When Liam broke her finger," Chris explained. "He came back and vented all his fucking frustration on me. His son. I don't want to be that guy, and I am that guy, and it drives me so mad! Taking out all my issues on everyone else and being an asshole, I'm..." He blew out a frustrated breath. "Okay, that's not right, either." He buried his head in his arms and growled with frustration.

"Looks like this weekend brought up a lot of things," Michael said.

"Ugh!" Chris made. "Like I started out all decent and responsible, talking to Elsa, who behaved like an ass. Yes, I'm not a great husband to her, and things suck, but to try to hurt me by using India is just lame and... no. Not okay."

"So you talked to her?"

"Yeah. Told her I want a divorce," Chris said. "I came clean. I just wanted a cut, to be done with something."

"That's a big step," Michael said.

"It was the right one, and so overdue. I should have split with her a long time ago," Chris said. "It wasn't working out, I just wasn't happy. I tried so hard and kept blaming myself."

"And what do you think was the cause of your unhappiness?"

Chris shrugged. "It just didn't fit. We got into it for different reasons," he said. "It was bound to happen."

"Interesting." Michael made a few notes on his pad.

"I talked to Liam, and he's totally chill with me being with Tom," Chris aid. "Completely different to what I expected."

"You certainly kicked over a few anthills this weekend," Michael said appreciatively. "I'm beginning to get why everything feels so out of control to you."

"It only got out of control because Tom left," Chris said. "If he hadn't just walked off, I could've... I would've done okay." He hid his face in his hands. "Who am I kidding."

When he didn't say anything for a long time, Michael said:

"Can I make an observation?"

Chris didn't look up. "Sure."

"Last week it was almost impossible to get to anything substantial," he said. "And today, you walk in and we can immediately start talking about the important things."

Chris shrugged. "I'm just so tired of pretending," he said. "It's exhausting to keep pretending everything is all right."

"Have you and Tom made up?"

"Eh." Chris scratched his head. "We're still together," he said, finally looking up. "It's complicated."

"So you've been busy blowing up every significant relationship in your life this weekend," Michael said. "Your wife..."

"Ex-wife," Chris grumbled. "The sooner the better."

"Your wife," Michael reiterated, "your brother, Tom..."

"And I talked to my parents," Chris supplied. "About... that night."

"Oh?"

Chris swallowed. "I can't talk about that," he said.

"Can you tell me how you feel about the talk?"

He his his head in his arms again. Protecting his soft spots, he realized. Ah, hell. "It's all a jumble," he said. "My mom and I, we cried a lot. My dad was really stand-offish. Mom said to wait, he'd call back. And then I... remembered. About him, coming back from hospital and beating me with his belt."

"Did you talk to him again?"

"Tom held them off," Chris said. "They tried to call me again but I deleted all their messages."

"It's a lot," Michael said, sounding unusually soft.

"The idiot thing is, if I hadn't been such an asshole towards Tom, he wouldn't have walked out on me," Chris said. "On Sunday, I mean. Okay, I was an ass on Saturday, too."

"That's a lot of insight," Michael said.

Chris looked at him. "I completely freaked out when he walked out on me," he said. "Why would I want to do that to myself?"

Michael shrugged. "What do you think?"

"It's like ripping the band-aid off," Chris said. "Like one pain leads to another."

"Maybe you were trying to get him out of the way before you self-destructed," Michael said. "Like you said on the phone Saturday."

"You remember that?" Chris asked.

"It's my job."

“I’d like to do something for him,” Chris said. “We had a doctor there on Sunday when I… completely freaked out after Tom left. He left me a sedative to take.” He took a deep breath. “To be honest, it’s helped.”

“What kind was it?”

Chris named the brand.

“And you’ve been taking it how?”

Chris described his pattern. “I’m so damn hard on Tom. The whole thing is so hard on him. I have no idea why he came back at all that Sunday. No idea. The medication is helping me deal with things.”

“In what way?”

“I can think straight. Well, as straight as it gets in my case.” He smiled weakly at Michael. “I’m less freaked out. I’ve been hanging on to Tom for sanity and the medication helps me do some of that myself. Which is a good thing, because he isn’t taking my shit any more and walked out on me twice because I’ve been such an ass towards him.”

“I was wondering which part of the medication profited you,” Michael admitted.

“Oh, like still having a boyfriend tomorrow?” Chris said. “That would be a bonus.”

“Have you been to work on this medication?”

Chris shook his head. “I took today off, and tomorrow, too. I just needed a time-out. I could use a few weeks, to be honest, but the shoot rolls on, hard to postpone. It’ll be up until Christmas, and then a couple of weeks after that and then I’m done.”

“I’d like to prescribe a different sedative,” Michael said. “One that doesn’t make you so sleepy. Try it out tomorrow. If you feel it doesn’t cover it, give my office a call and I’ll make out a different prescription.”

“That would be a relief,” Chris said. “Thank you.”

“I’d like to monitor how you’re doing under the medication for this week and the next,” Michael said. “It’s not meant to be taken long-term. If things don’t improve for you in that time span, we’ll have to look at different options, like an anti-depressant.”

“At this point,” Chris said. “Anything that gets me through the day without a meltdown is a good thing.”

“Do you want to talk about what’s in the envelope?” Michael asked.

Chris sighed. He wouldn’t have wanted to go near it at the beginning of the session, but just sharing how difficult everything was at the moment had warmed him up and helped immensely. “Okay,” he said. “We can give it a try.”

Michael got up to push a small table over to where they were sitting so they’d have a space to spread the notes. Chris was surprised how different they all were. Some were written on in tight, neat writing, others had scribbled notes that were hardly readable, some were ripped or crumpled as he’d torn them out of the notebook and then put aside in favor of the next page, or just stuffed them in the envelope to get them out of the way.

“Can I leave them here with you when the session is over?” Chris asked.

“Sure, if you want to.”

“I’d like you to read them until Thursday, maybe?” He eyed Michael, not sure if that was part of his service.

“What would you wish to accomplish with that?” Michael asked.

“Um… just… share, I guess,” Chris said. “Make sense of it. When I’m in that space, I’m completely alone. I know I scare Tom to pieces. There was one time… yesterday… when… anyway, he kind of saw me when I was out of it and went for the notebook and…” He sighed. “He said he hadn’t realized how scared I really was.”

“So is he scared in that moment or are you?” Michael wanted to know.

“Hm.” He let the moment play out in front of his inner eye – their conversation at the kitchen table, Tom being so distant and not responsive to him looking for a cuddle, his own overreaction… he must have really been famished for a hug, good lord. Tom had not told him no right-out, just asked him to wait a moment. And then Tom coming after him… and Chris not capable of relaxing into the moment, but having to get into the next thing, his parents, being an ignorant ass towards Tom, and Tom… leaving… “I’m just being an asshole,” Chris said. “Towards him. I don’t want him to see me like that.”

“But he did,” Michael said. “What happened then?”

 _Paper slips under the door and… being held._ “He’s super sweet about it,” he admitted quietly. “He takes care of me. Tucks me in.” He swallowed, hard. “I don’t think he wants to have to take care of me. I think he wants me to take care of him.”

“Maybe you should talk with him about that,” Michael said. “If what you think he feels is actually what he’s feeling.”

“Do you think I’m wrong?” Chris wanted to know.

“I don’t know,” Michael admitted. “But when you say he’s sweet about it and tucks you in, that doesn’t sound like he’s very scared of you in that moment.”

“Hm.”

“It sounds loving and caring to me,” Michael said. “You also said he kept your parents from contacting you when you were feeling low. It sounds like he's trying to protect you from things that could upset you more."

"He's doing it so I don't upset him, because he can't deal with it," Chris said.

"Do you like to be upset?"

"It helps me keep people off my back," Chris said.

"Tom?"

Chris was very quiet after that, just staring at the notes covering the table.

"Would that be very bad?" he asked in a very low voice.

"The question is why," Michael said. "Why do you want to keep Tom off your back?"

But the answer was as hidden from him as it had been the night before.


	32. Tender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris is working very hard to find a solution to the questions raised in therapy.

The hour with Michael drew to an end and suddenly, all of his insecurity was back. Chris wished he could stay, in this environment where nothing was expected of him and he didn't have to do everything right. Where nothing he said or did would destroy relationships indefinitely.

He'd spent an hour sorting through all of his things, but he felt no closer to having a solution to living with Tom. He felt like he wanted to stay in this office until he'd figured it out, but of course that was impossible.

Suddenly that in-patient stay didn't sound so horrible at all. To get away from it all for a long while and just sort himself out, without a chance to hurt and ostracize and drive away the people he loved while he did.

Michael left the office with Chris to give the prescription information to the receptionist, and Chris had a glimpse into the waiting room, and Tom and India in it. Tom had brought a blanket and toys for the baby, and sat on the floor with her, playing. He looked up when he saw Chris, and his smile made Chris' heart thump, and he found himself smiling back.

He had to do better than this. For Tom. For India. And for himself.

He waved at Tom, and then held up a finger, and hurried after Michael to catch him at the front desk.

"Michael," he said. "I was thinking, and I'd really like to have another round of tablets of the old prescription to last me tonight and tomorrow?"

"Oh? What brought that on?"

There was nothing but telling the truth. "This whole thing, it's... it's really hard on... on me," he said, feeling ashamed and relieved at the same time for just spelling it out. "And it's so hard on Tom. It's too hard on us, on our relationship. You know how invested I am in working on this, but right now, we all need a time-out to catch our breaths. I don't want to lose my relationship over this. I need that man, and he needs me, and we all need more than one quiet day, but I'm taking what I can get."

"You understand that I was intending for you to try out the new drug before you take it to work?" Michael asked. "I'd feel more comfortable if you had a day to assess what it is doing to your system."

"I got that," Chris said. "But I know how the old drug works and it's exactly the kind of thing we need for at least another day. And possibly the next weekend." Better to cover all his bases now. "And if it's not screwing everything up too much, maybe even every evening. Until I've got a bit of a better handle on everything and I'm not behaving like a fucking wrecking ball any more. I don't want to wake up on the other side and find I've lost who I'm doing all of this for." At this point, it was hard to tell if he meant himself, or Tom, or if the two were so intertwined in his thinking that it didn't matter.

Michael assessed him calmly. It was unnerving to be dependent on someone else's judgment for something you felt you desperately needed, and Chris didn’t want to beg.

“Okay,” Michael finally said. “Old drug for your day off. New drug Wednesday and Thursday, and I’ll see you Thursday afternoon for your next appointment. If the new drug doesn’t agree with you, I want a call. But please no mixing of both in one day.”

“Deal.” He hoped he’d be so knackered after a long work day on Wednesday that he wouldn’t need a calming agent. He would certainly give it everything he’d got so he wouldn’t want anything but a good meal, hot shower, and an early bed time.

“And we’ll reassess the drug situation on Thursday and talk about the weekend.”

“That sounds perfectly reasonable.” Chris breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you want to make a walk of it?” Tom asked when they stepped out of the office building with the prescriptions in hand.

Chris was carrying the baby and bounced his daughter on his arm. Tom’s question made him uneasy, so he pretended to have to adjust India’s cap so he could think.

“I want to go home,” he said.

“Okay.” Tom took a step over and hooked his arm into Chris’. Neither one of them noticed that it was anything special until they got to the car and Tom needed both hands to open the doors for them. “Oh! So sorry! I didn't think!”

His almost comical expression of mortification made Chris laugh. He waited for Tom to swing the nappy bag into the back seat and then dared to lean into his lover until he could feel his warmth on this cold December night.

“Chris?” Tom asked, sounding a little weak.

Chris dared to lean in more and kiss him softly. It wasn’t anything he was consciously thinking about, he was just trying to be lead by how he felt. India thought it was hilarious, smacking her lips and hitting Tom’s shoulder as she was flailing, thinking this was some kind of game. But it felt so good to just do what his heart told him that he kissed Tom again, and then one more time.

“Um,” Tom said, blushing fiercely, a shy smile on his face. “Good therapy?”

Chris took his time to answer so he wouldn’t say anything flippant that would destroy what little progress they were making. “Just so thankful for having you in my life,” he said. He kept tasting the words in his mouth as he spoke them. But this time Tom leaned in and kissed him, causing his toes to curl. “Okay,” he said, feeling a little at a loss for words. He had to clear his throat. Repeatedly. And his face felt like it was on fire. “Okay.”

“Get in the car,” Tom told him, smiling.

 

* * *

 

Sitting in the back seat with India so he could give her some loving attention gave Chris a short time-out to think and get his heart rate under control. It was ridiculous what Tom could still do to him just with a smile. Tom stopped in their neighborhood to get the prescriptions filled, and when he got back in the car, Chris had made up his mind.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “And you’re probably right. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go work out a bit in the basement. I know that leaves you having to take care of India, but…”

Tom reached back to touch his knee. “That’s all right, don’t worry about it,” he said. “Do you mind if I order in tonight?”

“Not at all.”

“I’ll call the Thai place, then, when you come up to shower?” Tom asked.

“Yes, that sounds good.”

“That way I’ll get to hang out with little Miss Cutiepie back there,” Tom said, tickling India’s tummy and making her giggle. Then he had to use that hand to downshift as he turned into their street, leaving Chris once more to assess how he was feeling about all this.

Good. So far it was all good.

 

* * *

  
Leaving, however, took a little more convincing once they were home. India had obviously missed him and wanted to play with him, and raised a holy ruckus when he changed and left, which didn’t help his guilt issues at all. He would just be in the basement, but his wobbly psyche was still telling him he’d be in danger if he was away from Tom, even if it was just three floors down.

Then two other residents were already using the room, working out, which wasn’t ideal, either. One of them was the owner of the punching bag, so he couldn’t use it right away. Luckily, he had brought his iPod and, after smiling and saying hello, he plugged his ears and started using Tom’s jump rope to warm up to the music, just facing the wall to zone out the other two. They’d luckily seen him around before, so the novelty was over, but Chris was still very aware that he would always be attentively watched, no matter what he did.

After warming up, he started on the nice set of weights he'd bought and added to the set already present. One of the other residents offered to spot for him, and they ended up spotting for each other on the bench press, which turned into a nice session of male bonding. The punching bag was free after, and while he was still attacking it, the other two left, allowing Chris to finally just let his thoughts flow as he pummeled the unsuspecting bag.

He felt better; the physicality of the workout making him aware that parts of him still worked as needed, that he could help himself, that he was capable of accomplishing things. But the insecurity returned once more when he started to pack up his things and got ready to go upstairs, leaving him uneasy about what would await him, and what expectations he was supposed to fulfill and wouldn't be able to. Surprisingly, a part of him wished for a quiet place to retreat to, without responsibilities. The constant switches between feeling he needed Tom to survive and wanting to be by himself with no responsibilities were starting to give him whiplash.

The living room was empty when he came home, but he heard voices from the kitchen. He would have loved to just move on to the shower, but Tom had said something about calling in for dinner when he was done, and he was hungry, too.

He trudged in and found Tom and India on the bench, both enjoying a snack. Tom looked guilty that he had caught them with food.

"Sorry," he mumbled with his mouth full. "We were so hungry."

"Do you want to give the Thai place a call?" Chris asked.

"Uh-huh." Tom fished for his phone.

Chris walked over to the fridge for a carton of milk. Quickly mixing it with cocoa, he downed a whole liter in no time at all and added two bananas for good measure. He spotted the medication on the island and got himself a tablet, downing it with some water. "Ah. Better."

Tom had been watching him. "I ordered double," he told Chris. "That looks dangerous. We don't want you to start eating India, right, cupcake?"

And for some reason, that remark hit him in a completely wrong way, and he felt the anger that was always so close to the surface bubble up immediately. The whole situation was screwed; the way Tom ducked when he came in, the way he pretended to have to protect India from him... everything he had hoped to gain from working out and taking his temper elsewhere had evaporated in two seconds flat.

But lashing out at Tom was out of the question. Walking out on him would only postpone the problem; what if he was still angry when he got out of the shower, and would make their lives miserable for the whole night? As much as he was ready to support their healing and their relationship by taking suppressants; there was something going on here that could not be solved with drugs. He didn't want to only be able to be safe for his family when he was put under; that was not an idea he was willing to entertain.

He could see that Tom was watching him, and then he asked: "Chris, are you okay?", which aggravated him even more.

There were two things he could do right now; he assessed calmly. Either call an ambulance and let himself be carried off to the looney bin for a while to get himself sorted out without harming anyone else. Or, and that was a completely new, and wholly unbidden thought... he could stop fighting and simply surrender.

He held up a hand to stall Tom's next question or concern, which would undoubtedly come. He needed to figure this out for himself. This wasn't Tom's fight, it was his. What kind of person did he want to be?

Chris pushed himself away from the counter top he'd been leaning against and walked out. Stripped on the way to the bedroom, threw his sweaty workout clothes into the hamper and closed the bathroom door behind him before he stepped into the shower.

The sedative spread fast on his mostly empty stomach and already amped up system, helping him take deep breaths as he let the cold water shock him out of his agitated state. There was something about that that pulled him right out of the labyrinth of thoughts and inner arguments that he liked to get entangled in and left him to concentrate on one thing: getting warm. His heartbeat started to slow down when the sedative did its thing, the warm water helping, as well. Chris started to breathe slower, and his normal reactions returned, including really wanting Tom here to hold and kiss and just rest with.

Okay.

That was progress; knowing that he was normal when he wanted Tom close and be gentle with him; and that things were wrong when he felt he wanted to lash out. It was a true north he could align his emotional compass to; and it gave him hope with the knowledge that whatever was having him in its cruel grips had nothing to do with Tom. Nothing at all.

Nothing that Tom did or didn't do was the cause of how Chris felt. If he felt he needed to lash out at Tom, it had everything to do with Chris, and not with his partner. Running away each time he felt agitated may not be a great solution, but it was better than hurting someone he loved. Maybe that was why Tom was walking out on him when he was hurt, too. He did it so he wouldn't do something irrevocable, to get his head clear and assess the situation calmly.

So Tom had a temper, too.

Hm.

Something about that made Chris smile as he toweled himself dry. The drug helped him to put distance between himself and his emotions and made him a bit drowsy, giving him a time-out from thinking a mile a minute to figure out everything at once.

He found his most comfortable house clothes to slip into and then dared to step back into the living room, where Tom and India sat on the floor, playing.

Tom looked up when he came in, concern in his eyes. "I've made you some warm cocoa with marshmallows," he said. "It'll be another twenty minutes until delivery. The place is swamped."

"Thank you." Chris sat down on the sofa and had a sip, and one of the biscuits Tom had added, and then another, and emptied the cup. He walked over to where his daughter and lover were playing and sat down behind Tom. "I'm sorry," he said. "It just got too much there for a moment and I didn't want to..."

Tom turned his head and covered his hand lightly. "Okay," he said softly. "I was just worried."

Chris inhaled the moment of closeness and trust, and found himself nudging Tom's cheekbone. When Tom reacted and turned his head all the way, he kissed him gently, just being in the moment with him. He felt him gasp softly, and then smile, when the remnant sweetness on his lips hit his taste buds.

"Okay," Tom said. He was blushing again.

It made Chris smile, and they kissed again, and he felt how Tom started to lean into him because it felt so nice. That was almost too much, so he eased out on the kiss. Something about being so close was still making him uneasy, and he'd rather take it very slow and enjoy what they could do instead of pushing where he thought they ought to be, and then not being able to handle it.

"Tough?" Tom asked.

He just nodded tightly.

"Talk later?"

Chris just shrugged, but he smiled when he did, indicating that he would like to try but didn't know if he could manage.

"Okay." Tom placed a last kiss on his cheek. "I get it."

And that nearly moved him to tears. Damn, he was a mess right now.

Chris cleared his throat. "Is there something you need to do right now, or...?"

"Not really, but I'm happy to let you play with India for a while," Tom said. "Should I give you two some space...?"

"If you don't go too far?"

"I won't." Tom turned all the way towards him and cupped his jaw and then leaned in and kissed him again, with a little more fire. Chris found his arm slipping around Tom's middle and pulling him closer, returning the kiss, closing his eyes into it. It felt so good to feel this way towards Tom, to be so quiet and close and tender with him, to know that what had drawn them together in the beginning was still so, so alive.

And still so fragile and so, so vulnerable.

"I'm sorry," Tom whispered. "That was selfish of me."

The jumble of emotions inside him struck Chris mute once more, but he kissed Tom's lips one last time and then just rested with him for a moment, foreheads pressed together.

"I'll be right over there," Tom finally said. He had to clear his throat. "The delivery should be here any minute now, too."

"Thank you," Chris said. "Thank you, Tom."

 

* * *

  
Tom got his notebook out and started scanning his mails. One of Fiona's popped up, and it made him roll his eyes before he remembered his good manners.

"Chris," he said. "Your mom is asking me how you're doing. Do you want me to reply?"

Chris took a moment to answer, as he was doing everything with deliberation tonight. Tom was content to wait, scrolling through his inbox while Chris figured it out.

"What would you tell her?" Chris finally asked.

 _Oh._ Tom looked up. "What would I tell her? Or what do I think?"

"What would you tell her?"

"Hm." Tom also took his time answering. "Dear Fiona," he composed out loud. "Thank you for asking after Chris. He's doing as well as can be expected but he needs more time to come to terms with the things that have come to light about his childhood lately. I'll be sure to relate your well-wishes and we'll get back to you when things have calmed down a little on our end. Hope this finds you well, Tom."

"Chris says Hi," Chris added thoughtfully.

"Should I type it out like that?"

Chris nodded.

"Okay." Tom hit the "Reply" button and started to type.

Chris waited for him to finish and hit Send before he asked: "And what do you think?"

Tom peered at him over the top of the screen. "I think you're doing as well as can be expected but you need more time to come to terms with the things that came to light about your childhood lately," he said softly. "I think you're struggling bravely with something that must have been quite a shock and upset everything you thought you knew."

Chris gave it a long thought, and then nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Tom thought he'd finished, but when he returned to his mails and selected one by Sanna, Chris added: "It's upset us."

"It has." Tom strongly suspected that if Chris actually wanted his full attention, he would've started this talk sooner, or later, when he wasn't distracted by his mails, so he didn't look up, but read Sanna's mail, instead. It made him smile. "I'm sorry," he said, "but Sanna wrote. About Christmas."

"Is she coming over?"

"Uh-huh." Tom nodded. "I talked to her last week on the phone and she was asking if she could come over with her family to see us before we leave for L.A." Too late, he remembered that might be too much for Chris, and his heart plummeted.

"Would you like her to come?"

"I would love to see her and the kids," Tom said. "It's been a year, basically, and so many things have changed since then. But it doesn't have to be here, we can just meet them in London..."

"Is she staying with your mum?"

"Yeah." Tom finally looked up and across the room, at Chris. It was totally clear how overwhelmed he was with the whole problem. "Chris?" he said.

Chris looked so spooked; obviously trying to work through his own knee-jerk reaction to one that would take Tom's wishes into account. The next step, trying not to be freaked and telling Tom it would be all right, was way past anything he'd be able to accomplish today.

"Chris, it's fine," he said. "It's two weeks down the road. They'll be around and won't go anywhere for a few days. They're staying at mum's whether we'll invite them here or not."

"But you want to see them."

"Yes." He saw no sense in lying. "And Ben will be around that Saturday, too. I'd love to have them all here for a Christmas party. But I also understand that that's not something you can even contemplate right now, okay? And I don't want you to feel guilty about that. We'll figure something out. You'll be safe."

 

* * *

 

The food arrived before Chris could formulate a response to Tom's surprising news. How long had he been holding on to this idea? How long had he not been able to talk to Chris about wanting to have his sister over, or that they had even talked?

Now that was an interesting wake-up call to the fact the world didn't really revolve around him, and would probably trudge on without him just fine.

Tom appeared in the hallway door carrying two stuffed paper bags. "Honestly," he said. "If you don't mind, do we want to eat here, right out of the carton? I don't feel like being civilized right now."

"Is there food for India?" Chris asked, not opposed to the idea at all. "I'll get her warm plate and a bib."

"There should be." Tom said. "I specifically asked them to include a carton with bland noodles and veggies for her."

"Then we'll best just leave it in the carton like our food," Chris said. "She's going to want to have it just the way we do."

"In that case, I should also get us bibs," Tom said. "And something for her to sit on that she can mess up to her heart's content."

"I'll have her in my lap."

"That also works." Tom grinned mischievously at him.

It took Chris a split second to assemble what he'd meant, and another split second to grab a pillow and throw it in his direction.

Tom ducked, giggling. "I'm carrying the food!" he said gleefully. "You can't attack me!"

Chris was up and around the sofa in no time, grabbing his mirthful boyfriend around the middle.

"Help!" Tom called. "India, quick! Your daddy is stealing me!"

"Uh huh," Chris said, grinning. "Carrying the food, huh?" He pressed his nose against Tom's and walked him backwards.

"Help, help," Tom cried facetiously.

"I'll help you." Despite the playful mood, Chris was very careful to be non-threatening, making sure Tom had ample opportunity to escape if he wanted to. He didn't particularly seem to. "Let go of the food."

"Never." Tom waggled his brows at him.

"Let go of the food." Chris had walked him against the wall.

"Or what?" Tom bit his lip, breathless to see what Chris would do next.

"I'll kiss it off you."

"How is that a threat?" Tom asked.

Chris reached down and lifted him up by his legs. "Let go," he growled playfully.

"No." Tom's legs wrapped around his hips. "Make me."

Chris ducked his head and kissed him. It was such a head rush. "Let go."

"You'll have to try harder," Tom breathed. His arms came up, the bags bouncing against Chris' back.

Chris closed his eyes, breathing slowly as he explored Tom's lips, doing his best to keep Tom's weight on the top of his legs and not press into him with his hips. He felt Tom sigh softly, and the two bags of food thudding to the floor behind him as his arms wrapped around Chris' shoulders.

"You got your bounty," Tom said, sounding a bit weak in the knees. "You can let go."

"Do you want me to?" His voice was raw.

"No." Tom held on tighter. "Don't let me go."

They kissed again, soulfully, Chris holding Tom up by the power of his thighs alone, and then carefully leaned into him more. He didn't want this to become sexual; he was still figuring out that thin line when closeness became lashing out, and he wasn't willing to ever hurt Tom that way again. But oh god was he enthralled and in love and head over heels with this man, it was quite remarkable.

He heard both of them moan on the next kiss, and then they giggled self-consciously. Their foreheads pressed together, they did their best to catch their breaths.

"Food...?" Tom asked weakly.

"Probably a good idea," Chris admitted, but didn't move an inch, and was quite happy to answer Tom's next kiss in kind. He nibbled gently on his upper lip and stroked his lower lip with his tongue and then dove in again, tasting Tom deeply, so relieved to find respite in the man who meant the world to him.

"Chris, I need a break or I'm going to tear your clothes off, cover you in baby oil and rub myself against you for the rest of the night," Tom finally said breathlessly. "If that's what you want, _please_ continue."

"Heh heh heh." Chris couldn't help smiling. "Tempting." But he slowly let Tom slide off his hips until they just stood there, holding on to each other.

Tom was trembling, but he didn't let go, and Chris just held him, thinking that Tom was probably between a rock and a hard place right now, torn between wanting to let his guard down with him and not knowing if it was safe.

He didn't know yet, either. He just didn't. Just that this still felt good, and that he still wanted to kiss Tom and not stop right now. But he wasn't in a place yet to support Tom, and it would be unfair.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, instead. "There'll be plenty of time in the future for you to try that out on me." He felt Tom's resulting chuckle more than he heard it.

"Better count on it," Tom said, sounding a bit soggy. "Oh god, I'm a mess."

"But my mess, so... that's good."

"Oh god." Tom 's hug became vice-like. "Yeah. Yours."

 

* * *

 

"So, what happened in therapy today?" Tom wanted to know when they were sitting down to eat.

Chris was spreading a towel in his lap and sat his daughter in it, then opened the little carton with bland veggies and noodles that Tom had ordered for her. He picked a noodle with his chopsticks and held it out for India to eat, which she thought was the most brilliant thing ever.

While she gnawed, Chris quickly got a few bites of his own food.

"Should I not ask?" Tom asked softly. "I never know, Chris. I don't want to do anything wrong."

Chris supplied India with a piece of carrot. "And I don't know how to say no," Chris said. "I know you're curious and I guess you have a right to know when I come out and suddenly behave differently but everything in here," he knocked his chest, "says that I don't want you anywhere near it." He sagged. "And that sounded horrible."

"So, no. Okay."

"I guess I'm learning that it doesn't do a relationship good when you just vomit all you innards over the other person and ask them to deal with them in your stead." He sighed, aggravated. "That also sounded completely menacing and as if it was your fault." He looked at Tom. "It's not your fault."

"I'm starting to regret I asked," Tom said. "I won't do it again."

"I figured out today that going to the gym to deal with therapy doesn't work," Chris went on. "I came up and I was instantly angry."

"With me?"

"I'm just angry, Tom. I'm trying to figure out how to handle it, but it has nothing to do with you."

"Do you still want me to help, Chris?" Tom asked. "You seem very agitated to me when we talk about these things."

"I'm agitated because these things are upsetting," Chris spelled out. "It's what we talk about, not you that has me upset."

"If you can't stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen," Tom said. "Got it."

"Tell me what you want!" Chris said, exasperated. "I'm just trying to figure it out, Tom, without tearing you to pieces each time you come near something that still hurts so much that I can hardly tell left from right. I don't want to snap at you, I don't want to lash out at you, but sometimes I'm just not ready to talk, or go there yet. So I'm trying to figure out when that is so I can back off before it gets dangerous for you. Okay?"

Tom stared at him. Then swallowed and put his carton down. "Okay." He got up.

"Shit. Tom, please. Please don't walk out."

"I was just asking a question, Chris!"

"I know, I... I'm sorry, I'm trying so hard to... keep things level." Chris covered his forehead with his hand and shook his head.

Tom hovered for a moment, and then he leaned forward and put his hand on Chris' shoulder. "Honey," he said. "Please talk to me."

"Will you please sit down with us again?" Chris said. "Don't go away?"

Tom hesitated, but then slowly took a seat, with his back to the table so he could look at Chris.

India bounced on Chris' knee and vied for the next tidbit. Chris gave it to her, trying to keep his emotions in check. It was really hard when Tom put his hand on his knee. For a millisecond he wanted to push it away, but then he recognized that he was just scared to open that vat of sadness that Tom's compassion nudged.

"Honey."

"I don't want to cry into my Thai," Chris said. He couldn't look at Tom.

"I don't think it minds," Tom said. "And neither do I."

Chris gave another tidbit to India, and then dug around in his own carton again. From the corner of his eye he saw that Tom was slowly picking up his own carton, but his leg remained firmly aligned with Chris', providing him with body contact. They ate silently until Chris said.

"Thank you for not leaving."

Tom just rubbed his knee.

"Not just now," Chris said.

"It's okay, Chris."

"Thank you for coming back yesterday." Okay, here it was, the first tear. "I know I haven't deserved it."

Tom laughed. "I don't know if you deserve it," he said. "I just needed to come back."

"Why?"

Tom thought a moment on that.

"That answer is probably on par with why you don't want to talk about therapy with me," he finally said. "Too raw to verbalize."

Chris gave him a quick look. "That's about it," he acknowledged quietly. He sighed, but his heart started to feel a little lighter.

"I just want to understand," Tom said quietly. "I so wish I could just make your pain go away."

"Great, more tears."

"Good for the soul." Tom put down his carton and waited for Chris to finish chewing, then leaned forward, cupping his jaw and pressing their foreheads together, and then he kissed him lightly, and Chris kissed him back. Tom rubbed his knee as he sat back, and then fished a noodle for India to give to her. "There's a good little sparrow," he praised when she gobbled it right up.

Chris nudged him with his knee, but he had to smile under tears. India clapped her hands and opened her mouth for more. "Okay, that is a bit like bird feeding," he had to admit, kissing the soft tuft of hair on her head.

 

* * *

  
Much later, when India was already in bed, they spread a blanket under the Christmas palm, turned on all the fairy lights in the living room and just lay down side by side, watching the rhythmic pulsing of the blue and yellow lights. Chris grasped Tom's hand and pressed it, and Tom pressed it back.

"I think I'm afraid," Chris said, not looking at Tom, "That when I start crying about all of this, I'm never going to stop."


	33. Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom can't sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the long absence. Life's been interesting in the Chinese curse kind of way and left absolutely no brain power for fiction writing. :(

Tom couldn't fall asleep that night.

They had curled up together as always, and Chris, feeling safe and understood, had fallen asleep at his shoulder, his arm slung around Tom's middle, not long after they had gone to bed.

But Tom's thoughts ran a mile a minute.

He couldn't even really pinpoint just what it was that had him so agitated. Despite the auspicious start of their day, they had managed to take one hurdle after the other, and had both worked... no, they had both hacked their way towards each other, no matter the opposition. Chris had, despite his emotional turmoil, worked so hard to find ways to connect with him. Tom, in turn, felt that he was starting to find a balance between letting Chris feel that he was ready to listen and telling him when he was getting out of hand.

But it was hard, so hard.

He found himself kissing the top of Chris' head, worrying. Worrying whether Chris would be all right at some point. Worrying whether he, Tom, would be able to stay the length of this ordeal, hold on, not give up. Worry whether his strength would be enough to keep them afloat. Worrying whether at some point, he would simply collapse under the constant demand of his A-game without any respite, ever.

Slowly, it dawned on Tom that he was utterly exhausted. That the reason his mind was spinning like a hamster wheel was because he'd had to be ultra attentive every minute of the day, aware of what he was saying, how he was reacting and what he wanted to do next, lest some situation went out of control, as it was wont to do these days, at the slightest incident. He couldn't just slack. He couldn't just say the first thing that came to mind. He expected Chris to keep his knee-jerk reactions under control, but he had to do the same in return.

The easy way they had meshed for most of the time that they'd known each other was gone. For the moment, he corrected himself. Then again, was there a way back from combing over every word, every utterance, every show of emotion? Of telling each other what was and wasn't permissible? Was love when it just worked for some unfathomable reason? Or was it when you made it work?

His emotions gravitated towards the first option. Because otherwise, what was the point? You could love and be in love with everyone if you so chose. But falling in love wasn't a choice.

And he was a little tired of comparing the way he loved Chris with the way Chris loved him. He was getting tired of measuring himself on Chris' love for him, and how he expressed it. No doubt Chris would find it easier to be his support than the other way around. He'd exude calm, confident love, he would be by his side, unwavering, until Tom had figured it out. But Tom would never hurt him like that, either, would not lash out like that, would make sure, at all times, that Chris knew that he came first. They both had great strengths in the way they loved each other, and equally great weaknesses. Either they made it work – there that was again! – or they wouldn't.

But not making it work wasn't an option, it never would be.

Tom drew a shuddering breath, trying to pinpoint why this had him so incredibly upset. His heart was thumping and he felt the adrenaline cursing through his body, keeping him wide awake. They had made vows, dammit, to each other. Maybe they weren't wedding vows yet, but Tom couldn't stand the idea that what he'd promised Chris would not even stand the first test of their relationship.

Truth be told, it wasn't Chris who was doubting.

It was him.

"Chris, you need to start loving me again," Tom said, finding himself voicing his thoughts. "You need to love me in a way that I can recognize." He swallowed, hard. "You need to be the man I would recognize," he added, his voice raw. "I don't know you any more, and that scares me to pieces."

Because love meant being familiar with each other, and trusting that what worked yesterday, would work today, and tomorrow. Knowing that you were safe with the other person, with who you were, with your dreams and aspirations. And their relationship was too young yet to be sure that things would be okay, even when they were rocky for a bit.

Tom longed for a moment in which he could simply be weak, and not have it blow up in his face.

He finally extracted himself from Chris' embrace bit by bit, but of course Chris woke up.

"Just having a drink of water," Tom said. "I'll be right back." He knew Chris would listen for the clap of the door if he told him he'd use the loo. This was safer.

Chris mewled with discontent, but accepted Tom's pillow as a substitute for the moment. "Hurry back," he mumbled.

"I will." Tom kissed his temple and slipped out of the bed.

  


He paced the living room, the kitchen, the hallway, the living room again, back to the kitchen and so forth. Just moving, just doing some kind of forward motion, trying to match the pace of his thoughts. He'd had to be so measured and so restrained for the whole day; he felt like he needed to burst. Much as he wanted to be there for Chris, he really didn't know if he could do this for long. But he also didn't know what the alternative could possibly be.

"Tom."

Tom nearly jumped out of his skin when, on his turn back towards the kitchen, he found Chris, his arms crossed, leaning against the bedroom's door frame.

"Good lord, you scared me."

"What are you doing?"

"I just need to think," Tom said. "Go back to bed, I'll be there in a minute."

Chris was still there when Tom came back, just watching him do his round. When Tom came back next, Chris had sat down with his back against one leg of the door frame, his feet against the other. His eyes were closed, he seemed to be ready to go back to sleep.

"Honey, go back to bed," Tom urged.

Chris pried half an eye open, shook his head, and closed it again.

Tom sighed and moved on. He just couldn't stop. Step step step step step. He hadn't had any exercise in more than a day, and lots of internal work, and he just couldn't do it any longer.

Be there for Chris. Be used as his punching bag again. Tell him to stop it. Be restrained. Work on his stuff. Reward Chris for good behavior. Encourage. Suggest. Take care of India. Wait for Chris. Be there. Suggest. Accept. Encourage. Be afraid he would freak out if he did something they hadn't talked about. Watch Chris walk out. Take care of India while he did. Wait for dinner. Get dinner. Get hit by a charm attack. Find himself melt like butter in the sun at Chris being Chris. Be immediately hit with reality again. Watch Chris apologize. Watch him be introspective and quiet. Listen to Chris tell him he's afraid of being overwhelmed by grief. Realize that that makes loads of sense regarding his behavior. And finding himself still agitated and unable to sleep.

And Chris still being there, holding silent watch over him.

On the next round, he sat down with Chris, just opposite him. Chris opened his eyes, and Tom leaned forward, and they leaned against each other in a sort of half hug.

"You know what I just realized?" Tom said, his cheek pressed against Chris'.

Chris shook his head.

"It's absolutely okay to feel like shit," he said. "Hell, I'm so tired of pretending I'm okay."

"You're not okay?"

"No." Oh, that felt so good. "Can you blame me?"

"No." Chris drew a shuddering breath and rubbed his thigh. "Can you blame me?"

"No, I don't blame you."

"Okay." Chris leaned against him, and Tom reached around and rubbed his biceps.

"I don't blame you at all, sweetheart." Tom sighed deeply. "There is nothing you could have done back then. You did everything you could."

"How could I have misjudged things so horribly...?"

"Because you were young and didn't know any better. Because no one explained to you what was going on. Because everyone was under pressure and desperate and possibly felt so horrid about what they had done afterwards that they didn't dare mention it again."

"You think my father...?"

"I know I would feel that way."

"You'd never do something like that."

"No." He knew that before he would lose his temper like that, he would have walked away, far, far away, in horror. "That's probably why you're with me, honey."

"Oh god." Chris hid his face against Tom's neck and slung his arm around his middle.

"Because here is the gentleness and the sensitivity that you crave," Tom said.

"And I can't handle it."

"I think you want me to handle it for you so you don't have to," Tom corrected, making up his theory as he spoke. He knew now Chris was only falling into the patterns that he'd observed when he had been a child and a teen. Just like Tom had learned to be distant and keep things to himself when he grew up, Chris had learned to work out his frustrations by lashing out. Tom wondered what they would be like if they had been allowed to grow up to be the people they were meant to be. Maybe that was what had attracted them so magnetically to each other in the first place; finding who they were meant to be in the other person's eyes. And finding in the other person what they yearned to be. Tom admired Chris' easy masculinity, and Chris craved Tom's thoughtfulness and sensitivity. They were a match made in heaven, really, all the way.

How good it felt to remind himself of that.

"Be my knight in shining armor?" Tom heard himself say, his fingertips gently caressing Chris' neck. Something inside him snapped and released; it was the most curious sensation. Like he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. What a stupid thing to say, he was his own man, after all, and... how juvenile and... and... and damn, he didn't care. He wanted Chris to protect him and dote on him and make a fuss about him. He wanted Chris to think that he was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He wanted Chris' eyes to light up each time he looked at him.

Chris gave a soggy laugh. "You still want me to?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Chris lifted his head and pressed his forehead against Tom's. And then his lips on his.

Tom took Chris' hand and placed it over his own heart, holding it tight with his own. They kissed again, and then laughed, both sounding a bit embarrassed but also relieved.

"I know this must sound completely stupid but I think you just righted my world," Chris said, sounding a bit stupefied.

"Not stupid at all." There was a sudden lump in his throat. Tom found himself tracing Chris' face and then kissing him again, an immense sense of relief flooding through him. "You are allowed to feel like shit," he then said. "Okay?"

"Hah."

"It's okay to be sad. I'm sad that our honeymoon period is over so soon," Tom said. "I'm sad you're too broken to tuck me under your wing at the moment." He felt tears well up in his eyes. "I'm sad that what started out so joyous and magical is being plowed under by things neither one of us asked for. I'm sad I can't see the love in your eyes that was once there."

"Tom..."

"I'm sad I have to be so strict with you all the time, that I can't just be vulnerable and open and know you'll catch me if I fall."

"Tom..."

"I'm sad you seem to have forgotten what a wonderful man you can be, and I'm sad you're hurting so much at the moment that being with me is too hard to bear." Now he was full-on crying.

Chris shifted and gently gathered him in his arms. "I don't want to hurt you like this," he said.

"You're gonna leave, aren't you?"

"No, baby, I'm not going to leave." Chris held him close and rocked with him. "I'm not going anywhere, Tom."

"But you said..."

"I didn't mean that's why I'm up and leaving," Chris said. "I'm selfish and want to keep you. And I want to believe that a life with me is better for you than one without me, okay?" He sighed. "Not like I'm doing much for it at the moment." He kissed Tom's temple. "But it will get better, Tom. It will. It's not going to get worse from here. It really won't."

Suddenly his outburst seemed a bit overdramatic. "I'm sorry I'm so..."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Chris said. "You really have no reason to be sorry for anything, Tom."

"I just want to be with you," Tom said. "That seems so much to ask."

"Yeah." But Chris' voice was gentle. "It really is."

Tom looked up, and into Chris' eyes.

"All the things I just wiped away to be with you, all coming back to haunt me, huh?" Chris said. "Doesn't make wanting to be with you less true or less urgent, but I took a huge shortcut, and now I'm paying dearly for it, and by proximity, so do you."

"We cheated," Tom said. "We took our prize first and now we're paying for it."

"Yeah." Chris' fingertips down his back made Tom shiver. "We said it was worth it and had no idea what it would cost."

Tom shook his head. "I knew, honey," he said. "But I wanted to be with you more."

"And now we're like the two lost princes in the fairy tale. Lost in the woods that we were warned not to walk into."

"I think that was Hansel and Gretel," Tom said.

"Yeah that witch is a bitch," Chris sighed. "The cookies are great but the fire's a bit too hot."

"It seems very frivolous to believe we can just be happy when you put it in context like that," Tom said. "We made everyone and everything crumble around us, or are about to, and were sitting there in the middle wondering why the earth is shaking and the rubble is smacking us in the face."

"We need to tell Kevin."

"Yeah, Chris, we really do."

"Whew." Chris rubbed his face. "Okay."

"When you're ready for it," Tom said. "There's been enough going on for you lately, honey."

"Yeah, but standing by loving you in public is overdue," Chris said. "It's so unfair to make you pay for my hang-ups."

Tom couldn't really contradict him, so he just shrugged.

Chris gave him a sad smile, but he lifted Tom's chin to kiss him. "Will you come back to bed with me?" he asked. "Or do you need a bit more of thinking?"

"I need a bit more time of just being with you," Tom said. "I'm afraid if we get up now it's going to be over again."

Chris shifted, and pulled him into a hug once more. They just leaned against each other, breathing.

"You know that when you make me pay attention to you, you're keeping my focus off my own problems," Chris said. It also sounded like he was just voicing his thoughts, tasting them as they came out. "There's so much despair when I feel inward."

"Do you feel like you're making progress while in that pit?" Tom asked. It came out more sarcastic than he had intended.

"No," Chris said. He seemed astounded. "I just circle endlessly around myself and I'm mortally afraid of making mistakes and not having myself under control." He sighed. "But I keep thinking, that if I just dig a little deeper, if I just... work a little harder... you know... I'll solve this thing once and for all, and things will be... I don't know. Back to normal, I guess."

"That's not going to happen," Tom said. "It's never going to be like it was. Change is the only constant in the universe."

"Then what am I doing this for?" Chris sounded so hopeless. "Jesus, I'm such an idiot."

"It's... going to be better...?" Tom suggested haltingly.

"How is it going to be better?"

That was a pretty good question, because Tom had spent a lot of time being upset about things changing, himself. "I don't know," he admitted. "I guess I'm still stuck at being sad."

Chris hugged him tightly. "I love you so damn much," he said. "I don't care about being a bit sad if I can just do it with you."

Tom buried his nose against Chris' neck and tried his best to disappear in his arms. Chris accommodated him by wrapping them around him the way Tom liked best: one hand supporting the back of his head, and the other reaching down to the small of his back.

"Little steps," Chris said. "Just reminding myself that I want your life with me to be better than without me."

"That would be great." Tom didn't want to let go. "That would be wonderful."

 

* * *

 

They went back to bed when Tom nearly nodded off against Chris' shoulder.

Once under the covers, Tom allowed himself to inhale Chris' scent and marvel at how strong that body wrapped around him was. Approaching Chris like that seemed to do something to his lover. He was gentle with him, kissing his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, pecking a soft kiss on his lips and holding him in an embrace that was at once strong and tender.

It would be over tomorrow, so Tom inhaled it with everything he had. Traced those huge muscles with reverent fingertips, and then, reverent lips, until Chris laughed softly.

"Slow down, honey," he murmured, his voice reverberating through his chest. "I'm not sure I can handle that yet."

"Okay." Tom couldn't resist and gave the soft skin on the inside of Chris' upper arm a last fond nuzzle and appreciative kiss. "You just feel so good."

"So do you." Chris was definitely aroused, his hand down Tom's back gentle but very appreciative. "I just need a little more time to sort myself out before I can be with you that way. I don't ever want to lash out at you again because you're getting too close to where it hurts," he said.

"Am I too close now?" Tom peered up.

"No, you're perfect." Chris made very sure their fronts were aligned all the way, throwing his leg over Tom's and pulling him close. "You feel perfect, Tom."

"Hm." Tom snuggled into his embrace and purred.

"I love you, my heart." Chris placed a soft kiss on top of his head.

"I love you, too."

They were asleep within minutes.


	34. Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris continues to attempt to put his learned lessons into practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!

Tom woke with the feeling that something was horribly wrong. He checked the alarm clock; it was 8:30. He'd slept right through Chris caring for India and Miss Rose picking her up. The place beside him on the bed was empty and cold; Chris had not come back.

Tom didn't lose much time; he tied on a robe and padded into the living room, intent on finding out what was going on. He found his boyfriend on the sofa, with his laptop on his knees, his e-mail program open, just staring at the monitor.

"Chris?" Unceremoniously, Tom swung over the back and landed by Chris' side. "Honey?"

"I'm so sick of this," Chris said monotonously.

"What's going on?"

"It's Elsa," he said. "We haven't posted to the baby board and I didn't write that letter that I promised her and now she's freaking out."

"Letter... what?"

Chris turned his head. "I promised her I'd post something to the baby board and send the same thing in... basically, writing down that I want her in India's life."

Chris was right, they hadn't posted anything. Tom remembered the Saturday afternoon, when Chris had brought it up, how angry he, Tom, had been, that the first and only thing Chris could think about was Elsa and how to manage her. And after that, their world had imploded. He'd seriously not spent a single moment thinking about the damn board.

"So for once you're not running after her...?" Tom probed.

"She threatens to have her lawyer on it if I don't get back to her," Chris said tonelessly.

"You have yours...?" Tom reminded him.

Chris shook his head. "I've wanted to send it all off but with everything that's been going on, I haven't." He shrugged. "This is her third mail about it. I haven't even looked at my mails yesterday."

"Chris, you had other things..." And then he noticed the tears glittering in Chris' eyes. "Are you afraid she's going to go through with this?" he asked softly.

Chris shook his head.

"What's going on?" Tom asked softly.

"I am so... so _tired_ of all of this," Chris said.

"Of what, honey?"

"All this.. hatred. All this conflict. Of her calling me names and jumping to the worst conclusions." He looked so lost, his fingertips resting on the edge of his laptop. "Of never being good enough." Tom could hardly hear his voice on the last sentence.

There was a lot to be said about what was going on between Chris and Elsa, and how they each dealt with being part of a couple on the way to divorce. Chris knew all this, and Tom had gained the impression that he'd started to get a handle on it. Yes, this was unfortunate, but it fit in the picture of Elsa's behavior so far. Tom wasn't surprised. He was at the verge of suggesting that Chris simply forward the mail to his lawyer and let him handle it – but Chris was perfectly capable of making that decision. And if that was all, Tom would not sit here, feeling like his stomach was doing its best to plunge through his knees.

"What's going on, honey?" Tom asked again.

"I don't think I don't deserve to be happy. Everyone else is," Chris said.

"Chris, you're frightening me," Tom said. "I certainly want you to be happy. Very much so, even." He finally reached out and took one of Chris' hands and held it between his own. "Hey."

"It's all a bit much," Chris croaked.

"Yeah." Tom shifted and took the laptop off Chris' knees and put it on the table, and closed it. The fans made their typical noise, then the lights went out and it went still.

"Tom, I'm really afraid," Chris said.

"Of what?"

It took Chris a moment to answer. He was clearly fighting with something, his hands clenching and unclenching. "Can you please get me my pills?" he finally asked.

"You haven't taken one yet this morning?"

Chris shook his head. "India slept late and... I forgot."

"Don't go anywhere." Tom patted his hand and got up to retrieve the pill for this morning, and also brought a glass of water. He set both in front of Chris, and then sat down beside him again, and took his hand in his lap.

Chris sat motionless, staring at the table.

"Honey, you really scare me," Tom said, lifting Chris' hand up to his lips.

"I'm afraid if I take one I'll forget... how this feels," Chris said. "It'll all be fogged up again and the medication will make me not care."

"You always care," Tom said softly. "I think in a lot of ways you're exactly like me – you care too much. That's why other people's pain hurts you so, my heart."

He saw a single tear run down Chris' face and almost started crying with him. But he said nothing, just held his lover's hand, waiting for him... waiting with him.

"I'm trying so hard... to push it all away," Chris said. "How much it hurts."

"Yeah." Tom kissed his hand again, and pressed it against his cheek.

Chris went still, withdrawn, thinking hard. The medication was still on the table, but Tom didn't think it was a good idea to remind him to take it. Chris had good reasons not to, and it was right there if he felt it was getting too much to handle.

"I just want it to stop."

"What needs to stop?" Tom asked. He couldn't help himself; he scooted closer, his back to the table, his arm over Chris' legs, rubbing his thigh. "I love you so much, Chris," he confessed. "So much."

"Huh." There was the slightest inkling of a smile on Chris' face. "You weren't supposed to make it better."

"Honey, do you want me to write her a quick message, telling her you're not good, and that you'll get back to her as soon as you can?"

Chris sighed, and shook his head. "It's not about that," he said. "You said, yourself, that being sad is okay..."

"It is. It is." Tom kissed his hand again. "I just hate seeing you so distraught," he confessed. "So I'm going for the quick fix. But if that's not what it's about, I'll just sit here with you if that's what you want."

Chris just nodded.

"Okay." Tom fished for a blanket, since he was getting cold, just in his robe. When he was finished and sitting still, Chris reached for his hand and held it in is own, playing idly with his fingers.

"I always jump in," he finally said quietly. "And make everything better. They're all... they're all hurting me, deliberately, and I go and try to give them what they want. I've always done that... and now I notice, and... I... I don't know."

"Who is hurting you deliberately?" Tom asked.

"Elsa. My Dad," Chris said. "There's also a mail by him, that he really needs to speak to me. And I just don't want to hear all the excuses, and having to accept his apology."

"Are you upset with him?"

"I don't know what to feel," Chris admitted. "It's all been so long ago, Tom." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "And I have so many good memories of him, too."

Tom just didn't know what to say. He could remind Chris of how broken he was when he remembered what had happened – but he wasn't Michael, and he had no idea where this was going. There were a couple of things that did not happen right now, though, that he noticed – they weren't distracting themselves from the issue by getting lost in each other, and Chris wasn't trying to lash out at him, either.

Tom rested his chin on his knees and concentrated on his hand in Chris'.

"How do you do it?" Chris asked him.

"My father didn't beat me," Tom said.

"But when he wrote that letter to you, after you found out what he'd done... I was still upset with him for hurting you like that, and you were ready to let it go."

"Ooof." He hadn't counted on his own history to come into play. He wanted to say that how he dealt with his father had little to do with what Chris was experiencing right now, but that wasn't what Chris was asking. "I haven't talked much to him since, either," he said. "But he apologized, and unlike the other half of the family, he's already told me that he still loves me, whether I'm with you or anyone else. That's a big deal, especially for him."

"My father... I don't know what he wants."

"Not yet," Tom said.

"But I'm not finished... with me," Chris said. "I'm still... I can't just move on and pretend it didn't happen. All of it. And I can't forgive him. Not yet."

"No." It was so hard to just be present and listen. He wanted to jump in and make it better for Chris, now. "And he shouldn't expect you too, either."

"What do you think about all of this?" Chris said. "I was really upset with your dad. Are you upset with mine?"

"Oh, Chris." Tom exhaled.

"You told me he might have felt terrible about it so he never mentioned it again."

"I don't know what he feels, I know that's what I would feel like in his place," Tom said. "He definitely loves you, Chris."

"See, I love you, too, and I still lash out and hurt you, so my father and I are basically the same," Chris said. "How do I live with that?"

"If that were true, I wouldn't be with you," Tom said. "I have no feelings whatsoever for your father, but I'm so deeply in love with you that... no." He shook his head. "You are not your father, and you'll never be."

"But the parallels scare me," Chris said, subdued. "How can I be upset with him when I'm basically the same...?"

"That is exactly why you're not the same," Tom said clearly. "Because each time you hurt someone, you are punishing yourself tenfold afterwards. I've seen your Dad deal with you and your brothers for a while now, and he doesn't have an ounce of your sensitivity. He kind of blunders manly through his life and lets his wife pick up the sensitive chats that he doesn't want to have. It works for him, but it doesn't work for you. And that's why this hurts so incredibly, Chris. Because in the aftermath of all that, you were cut off from your Mom because you were afraid of hurting her more, and you had to live by your Dad's rules and it's been killing you slowly on the inside. You chose a wife who was like him, too."

"And then I meet you," Chris said. "Oh, god."

"And then you meet me and suddenly, it's all there, all those things you crave and couldn't have for so long," Tom said. "It's no wonder all those old things are bubbling up again. All those issues you never got to work through, bam, all in your lap, all at once." He laughed softly. "And it's no wonder you keep lashing out at me because being with me is incredibly dangerous because it means... it means you have to feel all those damn emotions again."

"Sometimes I wish I could avoid talking with you because I know you're always going to pick up what's really going on, and then I have to deal with it, too."

"Yeah." It all made horrible sense.

"That's why I got so angry last night, goddamn." Chris blew out a frustrated breath. "Cause I thought... I thought working it off would be enough and then I come upstairs and there you are, and the moment my heart sees you it just wants to... be yours. Tell you everything. Lay down at your feet and stop pretending. And that makes me feel so... so weak. And so vulnerable."

"Oh, Chris." Tom pulled his hand over and kissed it. "I'm the absolute same with you. And you being so angry with me and keeping me at arms length makes me feel like I'm suffocating."

"And opening up to you makes me feel like I'm drowning in all those emotions I have no handle on," Chris said. "How do you do it, Tom? How?"

"Chris, I don't wear my emotions on my sleeve," Tom said. "I don't know if there is a comparison, really. I love you because you are patient and kind and peel me open one layer at a time. That's when I meet my emotions, when you're there with me, and I don't have to be afraid." He rubbed his face tiredly. "And I miss that. But I... they're not on the surface like yours. I've learned to keep them to myself because... no one wanted them, and it was a nuisance for people to have to deal with them when there was so much going on with them at the same time."

"Your emotions are not a nuisance to me," Chris said. "Never."

Tom shrugged. "But like I said, I... I think I've been working through what I feel since I was a boy, one thing at a time. I already suspected that I was interested in men, and I'd been thinking through all the options, and it was completely new ground for you. I already knew and dealt with my father being absent and not understanding, and that's new for you, too. Everything is completely new ground for you. Maybe that's... why it feels so immediate and so overwhelming, and... it just takes time. I don't know."

"And that's why I keep getting upset with you for not solving my problems because it seems... like you have a handle on yours. And I can't understand why you refuse to have a handle on mine."

"Hah." Tom laughed.

"Oh how I hate Michael sometimes," Chris abruptly changed the subject.

"Huh?"

"He kept going on and on about how I'm there to talk about me, and solve my problems, and not talk about you, or Elsa, and solve your problems. I hate that man."

"For being right?"

"You better believe it."

They both chuckled tiredly.

"Can you understand now how hard it is for me to be with you publicly?" Chris said.

"I understand it but it feels rotten to know you count on me and depend on me so much and then pretend that's not the case to everyone else," Tom said clearly. "And to be honest..." He sighed, and shook his head.

"To be honest...?" Chris prompted.

"Coming out is a private thing and I can't and don't want to tell you what to do," Tom said. "I would hate for you to push me into it or out me against my will."

"To be honest...?" Chris prompted him again.

Tom took a deep breath and looked him right in the eye. "To be honest, a lot of our problems... if we could just be affectionate towards each other openly, maybe... we are so desperate about being with each other after a long day, and it always being the last thing, when everything else is done... I'm so sick of our relationship always coming last, after everyone else has had their share."

Chris' eyes stayed on him for a moment, and then flicked to his laptop, sitting quietly on the table, and then rested on Chris' hands. He didn't say anything, but he stroked Tom's hand with his thumb while he thought.

He took a very long time, and Tom ended up leaning against him, his head against his shoulder.

"Every time I think about it," Chris said quietly, rubbing Tom's hand between his own, "every time I think about walking into work with you, hand-in-hand... It makes me so happy, my heart is in my throat. I am with you. I am with the love of my life."

"And...?" Tom asked sleepily.

"And then... the looks," Chris said. "The whispers behind our backs. The snickers. The guys not taking me seriously any more. Ugh." He snorted. "Damn Michael."

"What did he get right this time?" Tom asked, getting familiar with Chris' outbursts regarding his therapist.

"Lecturing me on feeling uncomfortable about, how did he put it, 'coming out as gay in a jock culture'."

"Hm." Silently, Tom was a bit amused about how well Michael had pegged his lover's inner workings. He was actually starting to appreciate him. Life was strange. "He's a very manly man, like you," Tom said. "Maybe you should ask him how he deals with it."

"That would mean admitting he's right," Chris snorted. "No."

Tom chuckled.

"How do you feel about it?" Chris asked.

"I know they'd look," Tom said. "I know they'd talk about us behind our backs. But who the hell cares? I'm with Chris Hemsworth. They're just jealous that I get to be in bed with that whenever I want."

"Whenever you want, huh?" Chris reached over to tickle him.

Tom squirmed away. "Well, relatively speaking," he said modestly. Then raised his eyes to Chris', because he was not sure Chris was ready to be teased. He could see in the way he looked at him that he wasn't done with the conversation, and that he would have to dig deeper. He suddenly had a weary understanding of how exhausted Chris must be, all the time, working his way through this pile of overwhelming emotions that had suddenly landed on him. "I'm serious, though," he said. "But again, I'm not in your shoes. I'm the artistic, sensitive kind where everyone always suspects you could be gay anyway. When I try to be one of the boys, they indulge me, but let's be real here..."

"They do respect you as one of their own," Chris said.

"Yeah, but... not like you, Chris. And you also have to deal with having left your wife over me, that's different again."

"Ah, I just forgot." Chris blew out a breath.

"I'm okay with being looked at as an adulterer as long as I get you out of it," Tom said. "I _know_ you need me to be happy. Why should I care what everyone else thinks?"

"Everyone else also being your Mum, and Evie," Chris reminded him.

"I know," Tom said. "But they will always have their opinions, whatever I do. I don't see the point in being unhappy because they are hung up on something that has nothing to do with me, but everything to do with them."

"But aren't you upset," Chris asked. "About how they treat you? Aren't you angry at how unfair it is?"

"This makes up for it," Tom said, indicating the both of them. "I know I must sound so incredibly unhelpful, but as much as I love them, the moment I came out, the real me, they turned away and I was suddenly not good enough to talk to any more, Chris. What am I supposed to do? I like who I'm turning into. I love being with you. I'm not willing to go back on any of that, live in hiding, be alone with who I really am. In a million ways, Chris, you've saved me. And whatever the future brings, and where this is is going, that will always be true."

"Even when I'm such a mess?"

"Even when you're such a mess." Tom said. "I've been so privileged because you've been taking care of me so well while I was working through all of that. I really wish I was as much use to you the other way around. But while you've been giving me strength and security, all being with me seems to give you is to feel incredibly vulnerable and scared."

"But I wanted to go there," Chris said. "I started it. And I did because I knew..." He shook his head. "That I was safe with you. I never doubted that, for one moment."

"Even when I walked away?"

"When you walked away I knew I was going way too far, and that was a good thing. Each time you give me a smack on the nose it's like I get an attitude adjustment, a reminder that there must be another way to do this. You do for me in that moment what I can't do for myself. And that you're still here and keep going at this is..." He exhaled. "It'll take me a while longer until I can properly thank you," he said. "Right now I still hurt so much, and the growing pains are so damn uncomfortable that I want to scream and kick most of the day. But I know when you're there, you won't allow me to grow in the wrong direction, and I need that. Because I can't trust my judgment at the moment, while I'm so all over the place, and hurt so damn much. But I do trust you. With my life and everything I have."

Tom didn't really know what to say.

"But I put it all on you without asking you and that wasn't okay," Chris said quietly. "And I'm already conscious enough to say I'm sorry for that."

It was so much. It had so many implications. Tom was at a loss for words.

"Was that too much?" Chris asked.

"I'm gobsmacked," Tom admitted. "Wow."

"I'm glad I said it, though," Chris said. He heaved a huge breath and smiled. "It was overdue."

Tom just blinked.

"See, like, right now, I wouldn't have been able to do all that without what you said last night," Chris explained. "About it being okay to be sad. I'd never considered that. I knew that things went wrong each time... each time I tried to get away from being uncomfortable by doing the next thing, but I didn't know why. And to be honest, I still didn't get anything going until you showed up. I just sat here feeling horrible and hopeless."

"So, um..." Tom cleared his throat. "So... what are you taking away from this?"

"I'm not sure yet." Chris sighed. "Maybe just... that having a knee jerk reaction to everything isn't... really..." He sighed again, playing with Tom's hand. "Maybe... that... just because it seems like... you have a handle on things..." He fell quiet. "That's really scary," he finally said, after a long pause.

"Hm?"

But Chris didn't say anything any more, looking as if he had stumbled over a thought that made him pretty uncomfortable.

Tom just sat with him, glad about a moment of quiet. The talk had been strenuous but they had not fought; he was at peace with that. Chris' pill still sat on the table, but Chris seemed to be more introspective than anxious, that was also a plus. Tom found himself cheering up considerably. As talks went, this hadn't been the worst they'd ever had.

"Hey," he said. "Are you hungry? My stomach has been giving me the finger for a while, I could really use a bite to eat."

"Uh." Chris gave him a shy look. "Yeah. Okay."

"Honey." Tom leaned forward and rubbed noses with him, eliciting a smile. Chris' hand had automatically found its way to his side and held him, which felt really nice. "How about all the comfort food that we can think of for breakfast?"

"Porridge?" Chris asked.

"Sure, I can whip us up a batch," Tom agreed. "I'll find us a recipe that tastes like Christmas."

"Can we get us a tree this afternoon?" Chris asked.

"I guess so, as long as we look sufficiently gaunt and maladied while out," Tom said. "We're still officially on sick leave, remember?"

"Uh-huh." Chris touched his forehead to Tom's, and stayed that way for a long moment, just breathing with him.

Tom's stomach growled audibly.

Chris smiled. "Go get dressed," he said. "I'll start us some coffee."


	35. Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Chris go out to buy a Christmas tree and meet someone unexpected in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today marks the two-year anniversary of my posting the first chapter of _Sleepover_. Two years later, I've posted, on average, 20,000 words of Hiddlesworth a month, which comes out to a 5k words chapter every week. And that's just the good stuff that was worth putting out there.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, commenting, giving kudos and generally being brilliant and positive about this. If I didn't know you guys were waiting for me to update, I'm sure I would've given up several times in the past. Because you stuck with it, I had a chance to write some things I would've never dared to write before. I'm a better person, and a better writer, for it.
> 
> Thank you.

Chris' medication was still on the sofa table when they got ready to go out after breakfast. Tom saw it when he crossed the living room for the hallway, and frowned.

"Chris?" He found him by the dresser, slipping into his boots.

"Yeah?"

"Honey – I noticed your tablet is still sitting on the table, and..."

Chris immediately bristled. "I feel fine."

Tom didn't say anything, he just raised his brows at him.

Chris noticed it and blinked, and then there it was again, that shy look that he'd first noticed when they'd been talking this morning.

"Hm... okay," Chris mumbled. "Now?"

"I don't really want you to fall over sleeping when we're out," Tom said. "But..."

"Yeah, I kind of..." Chris shuffled. "I'm really feeling okay, Tom." The flash of a mischievous smile. "All that delicious porridge and cocoa you stuffed me with; no chance to feel other than sated and mellow."

"Uh-huh." Tom had to laugh. "Mission accomplished, then."

"I'll take it when we get home," Chris promised.

Tom stepped closer and ran a hand through Chris' hair. "I just want you to get some rest, honey."

"I want to be awake while I get to spend time with you," Chris said bashfully. Then he smiled. "I'll take it when I get home, I promise."

"Okay." Tom smiled. "I just don't want you to forget it, okay?"

    

* * *

  
The air was brisk and cold when they went outside, but the sun was shining, making the sun glasses they were wearing not just look like the attempt to disguise themselves that they were.

"It is so strange to be out without India," Tom admitted when they made their way over to the little park in their neighborhood. "I keep seeing things I want to point out to her."

"I'm glad I get to spend time just with you," Chris said quietly by his side.

Tom didn't know what to say, so he just kept going

"Funny to think that... you were so worried I wouldn't pay any attention to you any more once India is there and now... I miss spending time alone with you," Chris said. "I miss us."

It really had been quite a while since they'd had a whole day to themselves, and not just bits of moments when India didn't need them. But with the barrage of problems they had at the moment, having a breather inbetween by attending to India's needs wasn't the worst thing, either.

"The sun is shining," Tom obfuscated. "It's really nice after all those clouds. You think it's going to be snowing soon?"

Chris gave him a look, but he didn't try to pick up the topic again.

 

* * *

  
The merchant they had noticed in the park on Sunday, who sold Christmas trees, only had trees that were about their own height. When they asked for taller ones, he directed them to their main vendor on the busy high street.

"Are you up for that?" Tom asked Chris. "Be honest, though. Last time we went out to where it was busier it was a little difficult for you."

"Phew." Chris shuffled his feet. "I'd hate to turn back empty-handed."

"We can always ask to have a selection sent home to us, or to the park to view," Tom said.

Chris squared his shoulders. "No, I would like to try, at least."

"Okay. I think this way is the shortest route." Tom started out in his intended direction.

Chris caught up to him, and after they'd left the park, asked: "Tom, um... are you upset with me? Have I... put my foot in again?"

"Hm? No!"

"You're... really quiet," Chris said.

"I'm just quiet, Chris." Tom gave him a smile. "The work we do is really challenging. Sometimes I need a moment to lay low and just let it percolate and not think about it."

Chris mustered him, and then nodded. "I'd really like to hold your hand," he admitted.

Tom shot him a look, then just held out his hand. Chris took it, but it was soon apparent how confused he became once they came closer to the high street, and the side walk got pointedly more busy and a lot of people passed by.

Still, he held on steadfastly until they had to wait at a traffic light and he let Tom's hand go. He seemed very torn and introspective about it, though, frowning and obviously chewing on the situation inwardly.

Tom let him chew.

He didn't know why he wasn't running back and forth any more, trying to anticipate where the next meltdown would start, and do what he could to prevent it. Maybe it was because this was going on for so long now and his energy was low. Maybe it was because he'd finally figured that the only person who could actually change Chris' behavior, was Chris. And maybe he could start believing that Chris was getting to a point where he could slowly begin to support himself again. And maybe it was all of those, he didn't know.

But Chris could stand to be uncomfortable. He wouldn't die from it, and neither would Tom.

When they started walking, Chris took his hand again. Tom had to smile to himself.

They found the vendor in a supermarket car park, where he ran a florist's shop and sold Christmas trees outside in December. He had several trees for them to see, and was happy to peel two others out of their protective netting so they could inspect them.

They decided on a gorgeous, ten-foot-high fir and asked who the vendor would recommend for transport. As it turned out, he was able to provide it, himself, against a fee, and promised to have the tree delivered by two, when his cousin, who was supposed to deliver new trees by that time, would be able to pick it up and bring it by on his way to the park.

Very at peace with what they had accomplished so far, they decided to pick up something hot to drink at the coffee shop a couple of blocks down and then to turn back home. They just walked side-by-side this time, and Chris sat down at a table at the shop while Tom got their drinks-to-go.

It wasn't until they were leaving the shop with steaming cups in hand that a patron, who was just coming in, stopped short and said: "Tom?"

_Oh, great._

Tom turned around, and then he recognized the man, and grinned. "Eric? What are you doing in this part of town?"

"I had some business in the area," the other man said. "I was just going to get a coffee and then drive back. How are you? We aren't seeing you around any more!"

"Fine, fine!" Tom leaned forward and they shared a quick hug. "How are you? How's the family?"

A number of patrons tried to get past them, and one of them looked Tom right in the face, and he knew he'd been discovered.

"Eric, let's go somewhere else if you don't mind? Do you have a minute?"

"Sure, um..." He looked around and realized Tom's predicament. "Lead on?"

When Tom turned around to leave, he discovered that Chris had disappeared. A number of worst-case-scenarios threatened to take over Tom's imagination, but he took a deep breath once outside, and looked around, and finally saw Chris over on an adjacent green, standing nervously under a benched tree.

"Okay, Eric, this way." He dragged the other man along to the tree. "Eric, this is Chris. Chris, this is my cousin Eric. We practically grew up together."

"How do you do?" Eric cordially held out a hand, and Chris grasped it and shook it.

"Fine, yourself?"

"Couldn't be better. Aren't you...?"

"Tom's boyfriend," Chris croaked. "Yes."

"Oh. Oh!" Eric's face lit up, and then he laughed. "Very nice to meet you, Chris."

Tom waited until the ringing in his ears started to subside. That was not what he had expected.

"This answers about one million questions," Eric said. "You have no idea..."

"I have a pretty good idea," Tom said, quickly recovering. "However, if we keep standing here, this is going to turn into Comic Con. There's a little cafe around the corner I'd like to take you to, if that's okay? I'd love to catch up."

"Sure. I'll call into the office and tell them I'll be a little later," Eric said. "I can't wait to hear this."

 

* * *

  
Chris' head buzzed. He'd just come out. To Tom's cousin. He'd outed them. Both. In the middle of the street. In the middle of the day. While he was still feeling like shit.

He'd come out to Tom's freaking cousin. Just like that, without waiting for Tom to say it was okay, or even asking him if it was.

He was walking by Tom's side and found himself reaching for his hand again for reassurance. Tom threw him a glance and a smile, and pressed his hand back. So he hadn't ruined everything in two seconds. With his recent track record, that was at least something. He guessed. The day wasn't over yet, after all.

"We should be right there," Tom said to Eric. "Right around this corner."

Chris recognized the cafe. It was were he, India and Tom had gone for brunch the first time they'd had India over. He was fairly sure that Tom would not take them there if Eric wasn't a good friend he was eager to talk to. Actually, the way Eric had reacted had been... so unspectacular.

The management, discreet as always, showed them to their little nook in the back of the cafe. Chris needed to keep moving and took their coats to hang up. When he came back, Tom and Eric had already ordered.

"What's it going to be?" Chris asked, trying to mask the tremble in his voice and hands.

"Surprise," Tom said, smiling at him. "You'll like it."

Since he liked most of the things Tom provided him with, there was nothing to argue with. The smile also indicated that things were okay. Chris allowed himself to marginally relax. "Okay."

"Oh, Chris," Eric said in that moment. "I am very sorry about earlier. What I'd wanted to ask was if you were... you know... Chris Hemsworth, to be honest."

"Oh." Chris blushed. "That would be me, yes."

"I didn't mean to be indelicate at all," Eric said.

"No harm done," Chris said. "Don't worry about it." He was such a bleeding idiot. Such. An. Idiot. Sliding under the table and hiding under the table cloth for a few hours seemed like a pretty good idea right now.

"Eric is the cousin I hid under the bed with when we were little. We had the whole house go crazy because we fell asleep and they couldn't find us," Tom told him.

Chris had heard the story before, from Tom's mother, actually, when he'd been over for lunch once. "Ah," he said, and luckily, a few other details were coming to mind. "You are... married, right? Two kids?"

"Yeah, yeah, Sophie and Marcus," Eric said proudly. "And yours is that little girl I saw in the picture with..." He threw Tom a look. "In the picture with Tom?"

"Yeah, that would be India," Chris said. He wanted to keep explaining but then shut his mouth. Talking about the wife he was about to divorce was most likely a little too much information at this point.

"You've seen that picture?" Tom asked. "Where?"

"Tom, that was the craziest thing," Eric said. "We were at the hospital to see the twins, and Sophie was helping Evie open the presents. And of course she couldn't wait and had already opened your card to give to Evie next while your sister was still busy."

"So it wasn't Evie who opened it?"

"No, no, it was Sophie. And of course she asked who the baby was, and... yeah. Now we know."

"It said so on the card," Tom said.

"Tom, we didn't see the card. They made the whole thing disappear so fast..."

"Was anyone else there besides you and yours?"

"The whole room was full of relatives," Eric said. "Grandpa and grandma, Bobbie's parents, your Mum and Fred... yeah. Anyway, we'd all seen the picture and then they kind of made it disappear," Eric said. "No one wanted to talk about it. They just said it was probably a joke. We thought right away that something wasn't quite right with that."

Their coffees arrived, and with them, a tray full of tidbits from the tortes of the day, and one huge piece of impossibly rich layered chocolate cake.

Tom directed the piece in front of Chris and nudged him. "I thought you might need it," he said.

"You're not wrong," Chris acknowledged. "Thank you."

"Anyway," Eric continued when they were settled with their hot drinks and food, "we kept asking if you'd come to see the babies, but they said you were busy filming and would come later. We thought that was weird because if you were to come later, why did you send the card in the first place...?"

"We weren't coming later," Tom said, and his voice was suddenly very quiet. "They just didn't want us there."

Eric's eyes flicked from Tom to Chris and back. "Oh."

For a moment, it was very still around the table.

Chris wasn't sure what to do. He didn't know Eric, and he didn't know how close he and Tom were. He didn't want to keep blurting out information that Tom didn't want to share, so he thought it was better if he stayed quiet. But under the table, he pressed his leg against Tom's to let him know that he was there, and Tom shot him a thankful look.

"Yeah, um... they... Mum and Evie, I mean... they're pretty upset that I'm with Chris now," Tom said.

"Yeah, but..."

"They haven't talked to me in weeks," Tom said. "I'm not supposed to bring Chris along so Sunday lunches are... well, not happening."

Sunday lunches. Chris remembered that Tom used to go to lunch at his Mom's every single Sunday when he was in driving distance, without a fail.

"We were wondering what was up with that," Eric said. He turned to Chris. "We drop in every now and then," he explained. "Especially when Tom's around, since he's Sophie's godfather and she adores him."

"You are?" Chris eyed him.

Tom shrugged and nodded.

Chris had about a million questions for Eric, like, for example, why he had never tried to call to tell Tom about this, or to ask how he was doing since they hadn't seen each other in so long. But he knew he was getting into his overprotective, bristly mood, and he didn't make his best decisions that way, so he just stayed quiet and listened for once.

"Do you care?" Tom asked Eric, a little anxious. "About this? Because of Sophie and Marcus, I mean?"

"Pfft, nah." Eric waved him away. "We always suspected... well. Eh."

Tom laughed softly. "It's okay. No harm done, obviously." But he turned quiet again, and Chris caught himself covering his hand in silent support. On the table. In plain view.

Tom turned his head and gave him a very thankful look, and Chris knew he'd done the right thing.

Opposite them, Eric cleared his throat. "So, are you coming 'round on Boxing Day, then?" Eric wanted to know.

Tom grimaced. "I can't. I'll be in L.A. with Chris to see his family there. They're coming up from Australia."

"So you're not going to be home for Christmas?" Eric was clearly astonished about that.

"No." Tom shook his head. "Mum made it pretty clear she doesn't want to see us."

"That is so not like Aunt Donna. I don't get it," Eric said. "I mean, everyone is welcome in that house. Especially at Christmas."

Tom shrugged, looking dejected, delicious tart notwithstanding.

Chris nudged him. "Do you want to ask them over the day Sannah is coming?" he murmured.

Tom blinked at him. "We don't even know yet if she's coming to our house," Tom said.

"If it makes you happy...?" Chris raised a brow at him. "We just bought a ten-foot-tree, after all. The more the merrier?"

"You are serious." Tom looked him up and down.

"Yeah." Chris nodded. He had this sudden urge to see Tom happy. It eclipsed all his own problems at this point. It was such a simple thing.

"Um, Eric..." Tom turned towards his cousin. "We were thinking about giving a Christmas party the Saturday before Christmas. Chris just suggested that you'd come then. But I understand – if that gets you into trouble with the family and all, I won't be offended if you can't make it."

"Who's going to be there?" Eric said. "Anyone we know?"

"Um, yeah, it was Sannah's idea, actually," Tom admitted. "She's determined not to let Mum get through with this, bless her soul. So it's going to be her, and her family, and I asked one other friend to come so far."

"Benedict Cumberbatch," Chris supplied.

"Hannah loves him," Eric confided.

"Is that a pro or a con?" Chris asked.

They all laughed.

"We could ask Dad and Vicky to visit." Tom suggested towards Chris. "Though I'd have to vet that with Sannah."

"Oh, so he's okay with this?" Eric raised his brow. "Didn't expect that."

"Yeah, he's... actually... he's dealing better with it than Mum does at the moment," Tom supplied. He checked himself. "Never thought I'd say that, ever."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that, either," Eric said. His phone beeped. He unlocked it, and opened a message. "Ah. I thought so. I will have to get going," he said. "Don't get up on my behalf. It was great to see you again, Tom. Lovely to meet you, Chris."

"Should I give you a call or a text about the party?" Tom asked.

"You know what? Let me talk it over with Hannah tonight and I'll get back to you," Eric said. "For what it's worth, I'm still hoping Aunt Donna will change her mind..."

"We'll still be in L.A. over Christmas," Tom said. "So I'd have to come and see Sophie another day anyway. But I understand. Just talk it over with Hannah. It was great to see you either way."

 

* * *

  
It was still frigidly cold outside when they went on their way home, but clouds had come in and it had started to snow.

And Tom had been quiet since Eric left, mulling over everything that had happened.

Chris felt helpless. Once upon a time, he would've known instinctively how to help Tom and be there for him. But right now, after all that had happened between them, and all they had talked about, he was so unsure about what to do, and whether being really open with Tom would not overtax him and make him lash out again, and that was the least helpful thing to happen.

So all he did, as they got out of the busier street to their quiet neighborhood, was put his arm around Tom's shoulders and squeeze. And Tom shot him a grateful look, and Chris dipped his head and kissed him quickly, right there, in the open, in broad daylight.

He should stop fretting. He should just stop agonizing and overthinking and just accept what was, that he loved this man, and when Tom needed him, he wanted to be able to be there, whatever form that would take, wherever they were, and whoever saw it.

"You're killing me," Tom said, laughing softly. "Chris."

"Hm?"

"Outing yourself towards Eric, holding my hand in traffic, kissing me in broad daylight..."

"Eh... yeah." Chris blushed. "Kind of... trying things out, Tom."

"And...?" Tom's eyes where shining.

He didn't want to get Tom's hopes up. "Uh... the verdict is still out," Chris said. "Outing towards Eric... _awkward_." He rolled his eyes, and Tom giggled. "Unintentional, to be fair. It must have been on my mind, and I just blurted it out. But he seemed okay with it, so... yeah."

"Hm."

"Hm?"

"Not about you," Tom assured him. "About Eric."

"He wasn't okay with it?"

"I don't think he's going to come to the party."

"What makes you think that?"

They'd reached their resident street and Chris could already see their house.

Tom shrugged. "Kind of... the way he reacted, Chris. Like he expects us to invite male strippers to a Christmas party, so he has to think about whether he can bring the kids."

"Male strippers?" Chris blinked.

"Maybe my imagination is running away with me, I don't know. But he definitely was uncomfortable with something. And he's so tight with the family. Why antagonize anyone? It's far better for him to remain neutral until everything blows over."

"Tom, that would be a shame."

"Yeah... well." They turned into their driveway and made their way to the door. "At least now we know why Fred was so upset."

They quietly ascended the stairs, but after they closed the flat door behind them, Chris just pulled Tom into a hug, and held him very tightly.

And Tom allowed him to hold him, his own arms slung around Chris' middle, face hidden against Chris' shoulder.

The old emotions and thoughts came up in Chris' head, whispering in his ear: _It's all your fault,_ they said. _You're only hurting him anyway. Tom is only in that situation because of you. If you hadn't started it... If you hadn't broken up with your wife... If you had just waited a little longer... If... if... if..._

Chris squeezed Tom tightly. His usual response was lurking in the shadows, waiting to spring. Get agitated. Get loud. Get out of feeling this horribly uncomfortable and guilty.

But that wasn't what Tom needed. Tom. His Tom.

He rubbed Tom's back, and kissed the top of his head. "I love you so much," he said quietly. "Are you sure all of this is worth it?"

Tom nodded against his shoulder. "Always," he said. "I don't want it any other way."

"Okay." Chris lifted Tom's chin and kissed him. It felt really good to kiss, their lips still cold, but warming up quickly, and they kept it up until they stopped, both laughing a little at having been carried away like that.

"What's the time?" Tom asked, finally starting to unbutton his coat.

"Uh, a quarter past twelve. Are you hungry?" Chris unzipped his.

"Still stuffed with cake," Tom said. "You?"

"I have a weird hankering for Spaghetti and meatballs," Chris admitted.

"I'll make you some if you take your tablet and lie down for a rest," Tom said.

Chris pouted. "But the Christmas tree?"

"You'll be awake for that," Tom promised. "I'll make sure of it."

"Will you sit with me until I've fallen asleep?" Chris asked.

"I can do that," Tom said. "Let's go."

 

* * *

  
They both changed into comfortable clothes, and Chris settled down on the sofa after taking the tablet.

Tom tucked him in.

Chris blinked at him. "I think I'd feel much better with a belly rub," he said, already feeling the sedative spread through his system..

"You old faker." But Tom had to smile.

"Pleeeeaaaase?"

Tom didn't seem to be too adverse to the whole idea, because he quickly slipped under the blanket with Chris, settled in his arm, and started to stroke his tummy in broad circles. "Better?"

"It needs a lot of TLC," Chris told him, inhaling his scent. "All that porridge and chocolate cake."

"Uh-huh." Tom chuckled and nuzzled his chin. "You can sleep now, honey. I'm here."

Chris fell asleep before he could tell Tom just how much he loved him.


	36. Gentle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom wants to enjoy a few quiet minutes while Chris sleeps but finds that he can't.

Tom's head was pounding with a dull dehydration headache and he felt like he'd been run over by a bus when he woke after an hour. Chris was still sleeping like an angel, but Tom had to use the loo and have something to drink, the irony of one following the other not escaping him.

Standing in the kitchen by the fridge and emptying a bottle of water, he found himself listening for the baby phone before remembering that India was in day care, and they were on their own. It was strange, to be honest. Not that he wasn't aware that Chris and he desperately needed some time by themselves, but he missed their little girl, her giggles and hugs and her easy excitement about everything. Maybe Chris would let him give her a bath tonight, that would be fun. He'd hardly interacted with her in the past few, tension-filled days.

The main reason for insisting that Chris took his sedative, he had to admit, was to gain a few moments in which he could just hear himself think for a change. To take a break from the never ending, high-level input that needed to be processed and dealt with, all the time. But standing here alone in the kitchen, he already wished Chris would wake up and keep him company while he cooked. Combined with him missing their baby, he was already thoroughly spoiled for a bachelor's lifestyle, he admitted wryly to himself.

He shrugged, put the empty water bottle away, and went back to the living room, where he proceeded to crawl back under the blanket with Chris.

"… time is it?" Chris mumbled, still half asleep.

"Ten past one," Tom murmured, burrowing into Chris' embrace and wrapping his arm around Chris’ back as he scooted closer. "Go back to sleep, honey."

"Ugh so tired," Chris rumbled. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I want you to get your rest."

"Love you."

"I love you, too, my heart."

Chris closed his eyes again, but his hand kept stroking Tom's back until it didn't, and he'd fallen back asleep for good, and Tom missed him again.

Tom found himself turn his head and brush his lips against the strong arm that held him so closely, alone with himself and all those sudden, unexpected and now unexpressed feelings towards Chris. It was like he'd tapped that vat last night, when he couldn't sleep and Chris had come after him, and for ten seconds, things had been about him for a change, and now he couldn't stop the feelings from coming.

And they were so debilitating, and made him feel so weak, and in a lot of ways, it was a relief to finally feel them. He didn't know what that meant. He just was so, so weary of guarding himself from loving Chris. He'd done it to protect himself, but oh... oh...

He stroked Chris' arm and felt the first tears coming. He wanted to love him so badly, and wanted to love him without inhibition, without fear. He just wanted to let all of that go, finally, let go of doubting, all the time. Of being afraid that Chris would leave. Of being afraid that he would have to do everything on his own again. Of having to guard himself from coming disappointment. Of always having a plan B ready in case this didn't work out.

"Babe," Chris rumbled unexpectedly. He sounded so tired.

"Go back to sleep," Tom said, but he could hear how soggy his voice was.

"What's wrong?"

That didn't make it better. Tears started falling. "Nothing," he sniffled. "You need your rest, Chris."

In all this, he hadn't looked up at Chris, just held on.

Chris hesitated. "Do you need me?" he asked. "Tom?"

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Tom cried.

"That's okay." But Chris tensed up, obviously waiting for a blow. "Is it something I've done?"

Tom shook his head, holding on for his life.

"Okay." Chris exhaled, and kissed his hot brow and stroked his back. "I'm here."

What if this was all it was? Tom asked himself. That you never knew for sure. That you couldn’t be sure that noone would ever leave you again. What if no one ever came and rescued you and then things would never be okay for the rest of your life? What if all it was, all it ever would be, was the moments, moments like this, when you were at your lowest, confused and scared, and someone was simply there to hold on to? Who also had no idea how to go on, was also at his wits end, but... still there. What if instead of flowery promises and plans for a future together, what really counted was... now. And the next now. And the next one. And the next after that, and you had to work so hard and be vigilant all the time to even create and keep those moments, they never just happened or fell in you lap. And despite all the promises and the being together, in the end... in the end it would be...

"I'm afraid," Tom said.

"Of what?" Chris asked.

"I don't know." For just one horrible moment, Tom could visualize his family's reaction to him being with Chris, to him being different and strange and not one of them. He saw himself on a mountain top and his family in the valley. They had nothing in common, and no way to communicate. For just one terrifying moment, he was so scared of being so removed from them, from everything he'd ever known, from being so isolated from them, as if he was the only man on the planet. "I think it's all catching up on me now," he said, hardly aware of speaking at all. "Everything that's happened."

Chris kissed his brow again and held him close. Tom was aware that he was there, but he was also aware that what was going on inside him, and what he was thinking about, was nothing that Chris would be able to make better, even if he was the Chris he'd first fallen in love with. The absolute, scary truth was that no matter how much in love you were...

And he was so scared to keep thinking. Too scared.

"Everything with us?" Chris asked.

"Kind of." Tom blew out a long breath, and then laughed soggily. "Kind of everything."

"Maybe that's a good thing," Chris murmured, still sounding very groggy. "Things can only catch up to you if you stand still long enough."

That didn't make much sense, but it didn't matter. Chris was definitely still knocked out by his tablet, but he was trying so hard to be there and make it about Tom.

Tom slipped his hand under his shirt and rested it on Chris' stomach, stroking his skin with his thumb.

"If you stand still..." Chris tried again. "You only stand still if you don't have to keep running."

Tom looked up at him. "Why would I want to keep running? Oh."

Chris' eyes weren't even open he was so sleepy. He just squeezed Tom closer again.

Tom settled back down. The easiest way to escape all those uncomfortable thoughts, Chris was right, was to get busy doing something else. Get upset about something else. Make plans for the future, or start a new project or obsess about how work would go tomorrow.

_Duh._

Tom blinked. "You know all about that, don't you?" he asked quietly.

"Hm."

So Chris had felt comfortable and relaxed and had started to seriously think about settling down with him and then... boom. Everything had caught up with him. Literally _everything_. He really must have been running for a very, very long time.

And the level of relaxed he must have been with Tom, substantial.

_Oh._

Tom softly thudded his forehead against Chris' shoulder

"What?" Chris asked, sounding still sleepy but also amused.

"Bashing my head in," Tom said. "Please don't mind me."

"Please don't," Chris said. "I still need you."

"When things get the scariest, in our heads, in our hearts, we're still truly alone, aren't we?" Tom just finally blurted out, the frightening thought shared with Chris at last.

There was a very long pause. Tom thought Chris had fallen asleep again, but when he looked up, Chris was looking at the ceiling, instead. Tears were visibly pooling in his eyes. Finally, he nodded curtly and wiped the tears away.

"Easier to stand when getting lost in you," he sniffed.

"Yeah." Tom reached up to stroke a strand of hair out of Chris' face.

"But I think... you're struggling, too, aren't you?" Chris finally looked at him, his eyes pleading.

"All the time."

"I thought... I thought you had it down," Chris said. "Not an excuse."

"But an explanation," Tom said, and sighed. "I thought you had it down, too."

A pause, and then Chris' body shook with a laugh. "Oh god."

"Yeah." Tom reached over to mesh his fingers with Chris'.

"I was pretty upset that you didn't step up and save me," Chris said. "You, too?"

"With you? Yeah."

There was a long pause, and then Chris said, very tentatively: "Was there a lesson in Relationship 101 that we didn't catch, or...?"

"You had Relationship 101?" Tom looked up. "All I know about relationships I learned from watching movies and reading books."

Chris chuckled softly. "There's that." He stroked gently over Tom's head.

Tom sighed contentedly and snuggled back against his shoulder. "That was a nice morning," he said.

"Yeah." Chris' fingers drew slow circles on Tom's back. "We're both so fragile," he said after a while. It sounded like he was thinking out loud. "With each other."

"Is that good or is that bad?"

Chris took a moment to think it over. "I think it's good, because I wouldn't be like that with you if I didn't trust you completely," he said. "But then when things go wrong it really hurts."

"It does," Tom agreed.

He felt Chris' chest lift when he sighed deeply. "Can we try to be... gentler with each other?" he asked tentatively. "I know I haven't been, with you, and I'm... it's not good for me, when I'm not gentle with you."

It would've been easy to jump in there and get upset about it being about Chris again. But what Chris proposed was something really good. And if he realized that it didn't make himself feel good when he wasn't gentle with Tom, then there was a lot of enlightened self-interest involved in this, which, in turn, meant a very good chance that he would actually change things around and make them better for Tom in turn.

To be honest, that was pretty revolutionary.

But it was also very uncomfortable, because what Chris implied was that he, Tom, had also not always been gentle with Chris. Had not been gentle with Chris so much that Chris needed to ask him, now, to please tone it down. And it did strike a chord. A very, very uncomfortable one.

"I hate having to be strict with you, so yeah," Tom obfuscated. Then he paused, knowing he needed to dig deeper. "Where do you want me to be gentler with you?" he asked, just to make sure.

A very long pause followed. Tom looked up, finding that Chris knew what he wanted to say but didn't know how.

"I know there is something," Tom said. "I know I... just tell me."

"I'm afraid you're going to be upset with me again," Chris said. "That's not what I want."

"Do it gently," Tom suggested, with a hit of a smile in his eyes.

"Don't look at me while I say it," Chris asked.

"Okay." Tom bedded his head on Chris' impressive chest. "I'm not looking."

Chris picked up the hypnotic stroking of Tom's back, and it still took him a moment to work up the courage.

"Please don't... be so upset when I don't... when I'm not... not fast enough about... about coming out with you," he said. "I'm trying to figure it out as fast as I can, and... and you kicked me around about it a lot last week, and... please, I don't want to go back to work tomorrow and already know I can't live up to what you'd like me to do."

 _Ouuuuuch._ Tom grimaced, but honestly, he'd known that this was coming, and really, he deserved it. He knew he did. "Okay," he just said. Because really... Chris was trying so hard. Doing so much more than Tom really expected of him, like holding hands in public. Or kissing him in broad daylight just because he thought Tom was sad. Supporting him fully in the face of a skeptic relative, of all his stupid relatives, really, never budging. Chris might have doubts and feel insecure, but really, every time it counted, Chris had stepped up to the plate. Or when he couldn't, because it was too much and he couldn't deal, had told Tom long before Tom got him into a situation, which was really only fair.

The reasons he was so upset about things not progressing faster were really... his own insecurity about his place in Chris' life. Jealousy, that Chris was still married to Elsa when by all rights, he should be his, Tom's. He wanted to slap his own last name on Chris so hard there would be bruises and then tell everyone about it until they'd be so sick of it they'd ask him to stop already. If it was up to him, it couldn't be public enough that they were together, and Chris was his, and he was Chris', and damn it what people thought about it. You could never make everyone happy, but it was time that he was, and that Chris was.

" _I am so jealous_ ," it finally broke out of Tom. "That all those assholes can call you family in public and I can't."

"Does that mean you want me to stick around?" Chris asked, a hopeful vibe in his voice.

Give it to this loser to hone in on the important bits right away.

"Gah." Tom pulled the blanket over his head. He felt so embarrassed. _So embarrassed_.

"Tom...?" Chris asked. "I mean, is it... am I doing okay?"

"Yesh." His voice muffled by Chris' shirt, he pulled the blanket harder over his head. He clearly felt the rumble of laughter going through Chris' body, and then that huge sigh of relief, and Chris' hand stroking over his head. "Don't be nice to me right now," Tom mewled.

"Too bad," Chris said softly, pulling the blanket down. "Still love you."

Tom wailed and hid his head under Chris' shirt, instead.

"Jealous, huh?" Chris' voice was laced with affection.

"Shut up," Tom complained.

"Oh, Tom." Chris' chest rose when he inhaled. "Who are you jealous of?"

"Everyone," Tom said, quite enjoying the hidey hole he'd created. "Elsa is still your wife. Your brothers are still your brothers. Your parents are still your parents. But what am I?"

He'd had no idea that he felt about his place in Chris' life like that, but once it was out, it felt right. A lot of self-righteous, mopey things wanted to follow, but he knew that would just mean trying to hurt Chris so he would back off, so he clamped his mouth shut. This was way, _way_ more than he had ever wanted to divulge as it was. It probably meant that yes, things were really getting better between them, because giving Chris an opening to hurt him as big as this one would have been impossible, hell, even yesterday morning. But he still wanted there to be a hole in the ground to swallow him, right now.

It was quiet for a very long time. Chris didn't breathe for a very long time. Tom didn't know what he was thinking, but he was not lashing out, not running away, was not getting agitated and volatile. His heartbeat sped up a little, and Tom felt a little tremor going through his body. He was so close to his skin that he noticed everything there was to notice.

"I hear you," Chris said after a long, long while.

"Okay." Tom sighed. "Can you please give me a good hug?"

"Only if you come out from there," Chris suggested gently.

"Meh."

Chris lifted his shirt's neck line and peeked at Tom. "I can see you in there, you know."

" _Meh_." Tom batted unseeingly at Chris' hand, and then he sighed. "I feel so embarrassed."

"I thought you’re sticking it out because it's nice in there."

Tom peeked back at him, and smiled bashfully. "That, too."

He finally came out of his hiding place and settled back into Chris' embrace. A nice big hug was his reward and he sighed contentedly.

After a while of cuddling, Chris said: "Tom, are we.. are we good?"

Tom realized he couldn't avoid the question forever, and looked up. "What are you asking?"

"Are we going to stay together?"

"I hope so, Chris."

Chris shook his head. "When will you know?"

"I don't know how to answer that question," Tom said. "When will _you_ know?"

"I just want to stop feeling so desolate and... like I don't belong anywhere," Chris said. "Do I belong to you, Tom?"

"Yes." It was surprising how easy it was to answer that. "But I also belong to myself."

"Fair enough." The answer seemed to go down much easier with Chris than Tom had expected. He leaned over and kissed Tom gently in response.

"Yeah?" Getting affection and attention from Chris still made him open up like a flower in the sun. And he was okay with that, too. “Thank you for listening to me, Chris.”

Chris rubbed their noses together. “Next time I’m trying without you having to knock me out to hold still long enough.”

“I wasn’t…” Tom blustered.

“Sh.” Chris kissed him again. “It was a joke at my expense, honey. Okay?”

“Eh.” Tom squirmed. “I’m just having a bad conscience because… I was looking forward to five minutes on my own,” he admitted. “And then I missed you so much that I came crawling back anyway.”

Chris chuckled warmly. “I think we’re on the way to okay,” he said. “Something must be going right.”

“Yeah. Something.” Tom gave him a shy smile. “I just don’t want us to stop trying to get it right, Chris. Not fall back into… Into thinking things will work out in the long run while we’re unhappy with the situation right now.”

“Are you unhappy with the situation right now?” Chris asked earnestly, indicating their position and the cozy atmosphere.

“Uh, no. Heh heh heh.” Tom blushed.

“You’re the cutest thing when you’re flustered,” Chris told him.

“Oh!” Tom blushed even more and hid his face against Chris’ shoulder. “Stop.”

“No,” Chris threatened gently. “It makes me so happy to make you happy that I have no reason to stop.”

“Eh heh heh heh.” Tom couldn’t help smiling, and feeling quite giddy at all the positive attention. “Okay.”

Chris wrapped his hand around the back of Tom's neck and let his thumb brush over the short hairs there.

Tom slipped his hand under Chris’ shirt in return, sighing contentedly as he snuggled himself in.

“Love you loads,” Chris said softly, placing another kiss on Tom’s forehead.

“Love you more,” Tom said.

It came out faster than he realized but he didn’t take it back.


	37. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not safe for work. That's all I'm saying. ;) Have fun with this one. I sure did.

The tree delivery arrived fairly punctual, marking a temporary end to the close cuddling. Both men slipped into a pair of jeans and trainers and made it down the stairs to help carry the tree to the loft.

There it stood, still in its protective netting, leaned against the living room wall. Chris remembered where he had last seen the tree stand when he’d been in his decorating frenzy, and went to the attic to fetch it.

He looked chagrined when he came down the stairs again, tree stand in hand.

“There are no fairy lights left,” he said. “And no ornaments that fit with the theme. I just used it all on Saturday.”

Tom grinned. “Let’s just put this monster in its stand, then we can shop online for ornaments.”

“You don’t want to go out for it?”

“Do you?”

Chris smiled bashfully. “No.”

They didn’t need to say that they both enjoyed having unscheduled time with each other.

Funny enough, they both acted fairly shy around each other while arranging the tree stand in the middle of a special Christmas themed mat, giggling when they accidentally touched each other, and smiling shyly at each other when their eyes caught.

Wrestling the huge tree into the stand was another matter. Tom got a folding ladder and they both dragged the tree over. Tom got on the ladder and they lifted the tree into the stand. Tom held it level while Chris hurried to close the screws around the tree trunk. A spirit level from Tom's tool box indicated that the tree was slightly listing, so they adjusted it accordingly until it stood straight. Then the big moment was there and they took turns cutting the protective netting away, until all branches were extended and the tree adorned the living room in all its glory.

They stood arm-in-arm, admiring it, proud of their work.

"India is going to freak!" Chris predicted. "It was a great idea to buy a big tree." He pressed a kiss against Tom's temple.

Tom beamed. "Told you," he said. "Want to pick out the ornaments while I'm cooking?"

"I'll help you cook, then we can look them up together later," Chris suggested.

 

* * *

 

The pasta was already boiling when they had all ingredients ready for the sauce. They quickly put everything into a pot, and while they waited for it to heat up, Chris found himself putting his cutting board away and sidling up to Tom.

"Yeah?" Tom said, a smile on his face.

"Just because." Chris leaned into him, trapping Tom between his body and the counter top, finding with delight that Tom's hands immediately went for his butt, pulling him closer.

He ducked his head and they kissed.

It was the kind of kiss that immediately made you feel light headed, because Tom welcomed him, and kissed him back with just as much, if not more, enthusiasm.

"Hmmm...." Chris purred.

"Yeah," Tom said between kisses. "More."

Feeling Tom's lite body against his own, under his fingertips, created its very own special kind of intensity, igniting something inside him that made his nostrils flutter and his heartbeat speed up. He pressed his forehead against Tom's and laughed. "I'm still so crazy about you," he said, his voice shaking. It made him feel excited and scared in equal measures.

"I just want you," Tom said, his voice very low. "No. That's the wrong word. I crave you. Like I need you to live."

Chris took Tom's hand in his own and then put it under his shirt, against his stomach. Tom's fingernail down his middle line made him shiver. They were both breathing hard. Chris leaned forward, his hands against the overhead cupboard, and kissed Tom again, his pelvis pressing against the other man's.

Against his stomach, he could feel Tom open the top button of his jeans.

For just one moment, a flicker of doubt went through Chris. What were they doing? Was he ready for this? Was he really? But then Tom pulled at his shirt, and he pulled at Tom's, and a moment later, they were both shirtless and kissing as if their lives depended on it.

Then the pasta boiled over.

"Damn," Tom swore. "Damn, damn, damn."

Chris made short work of it. He quickly lifted the lid off the pasta pot, then turned both hotplates off and grabbed Tom's hand. Tom was completely willing to be dragged to the bedroom, and he didn't object in the least when Chris lead him to the bed and pushed him on it on his back. He quickly crawled backwards when Chris followed, stalking him, and when Tom's head hit the headboard, Chris' left hand covered Tom's clearly visible cock in his jeans, rubbing it while he nibbled his way up Tom's stomach, across his breast bone, up his neck.

Tom's labored breath, the way he arched into Chris' touch, the way his fingers burrowed in Chris' hair and pulled it, it all completely wiped any possible doubt away. He wanted Tom. Tom wanted him. That was all that mattered.

He covered him completely, both hissing at the touch of skin on skin. Tom's sizable bulge pressed against Chris' hip, nearly blowing his fuses. But he was so fixated on kissing Tom, feeling him move under him, tasting him, feeling just how much Tom wanted him, how he squeezed his ass and rubbed against him, how hungry his kisses were for him. Tom wanted him. Tom craved him. And Tom drove him crazy with lust.

They finally got rid of the jeans, almost like an afterthought, and when Chris slid back on top of Tom, they both moaned as if they were in pain. Tom spread his legs for Chris and welcomed him between them, creating an incredible intimacy and tenderness that threatened to take Chris' breath away.

Suddenly, they had all the time in the world. Time to kiss softly. Time to whisper how much they loved each other, how much they needed each other. Time for Chris to slowly kiss down Tom's middle line and finally lick at his cock, taking him into his mouth, Tom hissing at the touch, arching into it. Tom sufficiently lubricated, Chris slowly made his way back up, into Tom's arms, and lay on top of him, adjusting them until he moved right against his lover, and the slightest movement transmitted between where they were both most sensitive.

It didn't take much to make Tom gasp. It didn't take much to make him raise his legs and wrap them around Chris. His elegant cock twitched as Chris moved against him, stimulating him. Chris felt his balls move against Tom, and loved it to pieces, never wanting anything or anyone else.

"Babe... Chris... oh god... finish it... please... oh my god..."

But Chris didn't want to, didn't want it to end. Moving his pelvis in very small circles against Tom's, he kissed him, inhaled him, willfully drowning in feeling his lover under him, against him, around him, drawing him urgently in with his heels. Rubbed his face against the soft skin of Tom's neck, kissed it, licked it, pulled at his earlobe with his teeth until Tom begged for release.

"Chris... oh... oh... oh... please... oh god, please, Chris please..."

"You're too impatient," Chris said, but he was so, so happy. He meshed his fingers with Tom's, pressing his cock against his lover's, feeling him respond so delectably. "Go slow, baby. Slow... Slow..." Each admonishment accompanied by a roll of his pelvis. "Slow..."

Tom pushed helplessly up against him, hardly capable of coherent speech. He was at the tipping point, Chris could plainly see that, and he held him there, easing up when it got too much, just kissing him, or nibbling at his neck, and moving against him with more intention when he got too quiet. He was just picking up his pace when he felt that he wouldn't be able to stop any more, either. Driving into Tom, he kissed him hungrily, felt his hands and heels urge him on, his desperate yips, his fingernails clawing at his back.... until it was over, and his lover arched into him, nearly blowing his left eardrum out with his excited cry as he came and came and came, Chris quickly following.

"I love you, I love you," Tom murmured into his ear amidst exhilarated laughter. "I love you. I love you, Chris. I love you."

All Chris could do was burrow his face in the crook of Tom's neck and wait for his overexcited cock to calm down; it was so sensitive that coming almost hurt, and all he could do was hold on.

When the ringing in his ear started to subside, he found them kissing, so softly, lips barely brushing against each other, Tom's hand so gentle against his face. They'd rolled on their sides, air cool on their wet skin, nether regions still twitching.

"You know I've got to have you now, don't you?" Tom said gently. "God, you're irresistible when you're like this."

"Give me a moment." Chris could hardly speak. "Give you a moment."

Tom settled against Chris' arm and gazed lovingly at him. A moment later, they were kissing again, but this time it was Tom who was showing him very clearly how much he desired him; his kisses reverent but exciting, his hand stroking Chris' neck, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin behind his ear, sliding lower to cup his pecs, twiddle his nipple, lips following... tongue following... teeth nipping...

Chris cried out, arching into Tom's lips, finding that, inexplicably, his cock was recovering somehow, showing a lot of interest in Tom's ministrations.

Tom seemed to sense that it was getting a bit too much. He let up, just placing gentle kisses across Chris' chest, and then reached over him for the box of wet wipes and started to, very lovingly, clean Chris up, and then himself. When he was finished, he disposed of the used wipes over the edge of the bed, and set the box back on the stand, coming back to lie beside Chris, gazing lovingly at him.

"Are you okay?"

Chris gulped, but nodded. "I crave you, too," he said, his mouth dry. "Really badly."

"I can't fill you," Tom said, referring to the fact that Chris hadn't cleaned up beforehand. "But I can fill you out...?"

A very undignified squawk escaped Chris' throat, and all he could do was nod a little too eagerly. "Please."

Tom beamed, and leaned over to kiss him. He then made a quick grab for the nightstand drawer and pulled out the supplies he would need: two condoms, one for his fingers, one for his cock, the wipes, and Chris' favorite lube.

"Turn around," he told Chris gently. "Get comfortable."

Chris turned his back to Tom and bedded his head on a pillow. He felt Tom kiss his shoulder, heard him free a couple of wipes, felt him between his ass cheeks, wiping him down. He'd long since given up on what little modesty he'd had. Tom could touch him wherever he liked. He had no secrets from him.

The wipes sailed past him, joining their mates on the bedroom floor, and Chris heard a condom packet being opened, and then the cap of the lube, and the familiar squirt. A moment later, he felt Tom's well lubricated fingers against his hole, and turned a little more to his stomach, giving Tom more room.

Tom was gentle, but he was also insistent. It had been a long time since he'd been prepping Chris with one finger, he always used two now from the start. Chris pressed his eyes close and exhaled, the intrusion into his body always taking his breath away. He looked up; Tom was leaning half against, half over him, an expression of concentration on his face that quickly changed to a loving smile when he felt Chris' eyes on him.

Chris reached up for him and they kissed, Tom's fingers stroking him from the inside in counterpoint to his loving tongue. The initial lubrication done, Chris felt very much that he didn't want more prepping, he wanted Tom.

He squeezed Tom's fingers out, making him smile into the kiss, and turned in his embrace. Blindly grabbing for the other condom, he ripped the foil open and broke the kiss long enough to locate Tom's erect cock. Making Tom giggle, he nuzzled his way down his chest to his engorged member, crowning the tip with a gentle kiss before rolling the condom over with practiced ease.

He rolled Tom on his back all the way and settled to sit on his thighs, answering his questioning brow with a wink. He then took his merry old time teasing and touching Tom under the pretense of giving the condom a good cover of lube, until Tom swatted him away.

"It'll be over before we started if you keep that up," he chided him gently.

"Is that so?" Chris leaned over to kiss him and link their hands, and then slowly moved back until he felt Tom's cock against his hole.

"Oh, Chris..." Tom sighed. "Chris..." He moved up against him, biting his lower lip.

It had been a long while since they'd done this the first time. In the meantime, Chris had learned how to position himself and how to open up for his lover, and still, that moment when the tip of Tom's cock breached him took his breath away, took both their breaths away. Tom sighed, sliding in further, his fingertip brushing over Chris' lower lip.

"You're so beautiful," he sighed. "Ooooh Chris, you're so beautiful."

Chris felt him slide in, move out, very languidly, getting him used to being filled. He closed his eyes, concentrating exclusively on the feeling of Tom's cock moving inside of him; something he had learned to love so much that he knew he never wanted to live without it any more. Finally, he settled fully, squeezing Tom with his insides, eliciting a long, exhaled "Ohhh."

That was usually when him having the reins ended, and he was glad to let it happen this time, as well.

Tom drew him down for a kiss, moving his cock inside him, and then slowly turned him on his back and came to lie between his legs. They adjusted a little, Chris' knees basically at his ears as Tom somehow managed to stuff a pillow under his pelvis without slipping out, and then Tom started to take him apart bit by bit.

Chris loved it when he was on his knees and Tom took him from behind; he could move freely into the positions that he found most comfortable or stimulating, and Tom was pretty good at finding and hitting his prostate when he needed it intense, usually reducing him to a crying, begging, quivering mess. Basically, and he had long since made his peace with that fact, he loved being completely at Tom's mercy. No. He loved being Tom's bitch. There was no other word for it when he was ass-up in front of Tom, begging to be taken deep and hard.

There was that, and then there was this, Tom over him, looking at him with that expression in his eyes, stroking his thighs and ass, slowly losing his battle against the lust that started to overpower him. Sometimes he needed to see that Tom desired him as much as he desired Tom, that Tom absolutely struggled with losing control when he was inside him, that everything in Tom roared to take him, and take him apart completely – and still, he reined it in, that look of concentration after each thrust, the way he shook his head when it got too much, the way he was threatened to be overpowered by just how good it felt to be inside Chris – Chris fed on that, inhaled it, and sometimes he simply had to see it.

He pulled Tom down, into a kiss, feeling his cock shift to a different angle inside him, thrust, as he exhaled a counter "Ugh" into Tom's mouth, and Tom picking up the game, thrust harder, and harder, until Chris had to break the kiss and cry out at being filled... and filled... and filled... until the rhythm of Tom's thrusts became the rhythm of his heartbeat and filled his whole world.

He felt Tom's hand curl around his cock, stroking it with each thrust, but he pushed his hand away and did it himself, much more interested in being covered by Tom, feel his body tensing against him again and again, tasting his breath on his tongue, watching his features contort with ecstasy.

Chris hummed with contentment at the hard thrusts and laughed, drawing a deep breath as his release swept over him, urged on by Tom's incessant pounding, until he, too, succumbed to the stimulation and came inside Chris, expression completely helpless while his orgasm worked its way through him.

He ended up bowed over Chris, crying, something that Chris had not foreseen or intended.

"Hey hey hey," he soothed. "Tom."

"Shut up," Tom sobbed. "Don't move, you're killing me."

Chris laughed softly, knowing everything about being completely overstimulated. "I didn't want to make you cry."

"Well you cry quite a lot when I take you, usually. Guess it's my turn."

"Shhhh..." He brushed his hand through Tom's sweat-drenched hair. "It's okay, Tom. It's okay."

Eventually, Tom remembered that he was wearing a condom and gripped its edge before he could slip out and leave it in Chris. Groggily, he slid it off his cock and tied it, flipping it to lie with its cousins, the wipes, by the bed, and then simply collapsed by Chris' side, still trembling and sniffing.

They were both too overstimulated to touch, and too sweaty to be comfortable. For a long while there was nothing but the catching of their breaths.

"One of these days," Tom mumbled into the sheets, raising a weak forefinger. "One of these days, I'm going to take you really slowly, and I want it to take the whole night."

Chris laughed, turning, so he could look at Tom's half-obscured face. "How many times of this is that going to take?" he asked softly, letting a gentle fingertip travel down Tom's spine.

"I don't care, I'm gonna do it," Tom maintained. "This is just not... ugh." His arm hit the bed again, too weak to be held up. "I'm supposed to take you apart when we do it like this," he complained. He scowled at Chris, just one eye visible over the sheets. "Are you?"

"Completely," Chris assured him earnestly.

"You're humoring me."

"I love you," Chris said, and he exhaled happily, nudging Tom with his nose until he rolled over enough so he could kiss him. "I love you so damn much, my sweet prince."

"Heh heh." Tom slung an arm around his neck and rubbed noses with him. "Okay."

"But you're welcome to go for that all-night-long thing," Chris said. "As many tries as it's going to take to get it right." And he grinned insolently.

Tom cuffed him, but he also had to smile. "Deal."

 

* * *

 

Urged on by their growling stomachs, they eventually managed to get up and rescue their half-cooked dinner. But after eating, they ended up on the sofa once more, tightly wound around each other, not ready at all to give up on this new found trust and intimacy.

Chris’ heart threatened to burst with love and tenderness, and a kind of jubilant joy about being so close to Tom, to be able to make him laugh again and make him feel safe about being open with him. He couldn’t get enough of Tom’s sleepy scent, and the way his body felt in Chris’ arms, how warm the thin fabric of his shirt was under Chris’ hands, how soft his lips were under his, how he sighed into his mouth when kissed, the dreamy expression in his eyes.

They were both full and sleepy, but couldn’t keep their hands off each other, not wanting this magic to end.

Tentative, loving touches eventually made space for more urgent ones; fingertips tracing impossibly soft skin, curling around cocks, excitement shared by urgent gasps and gentle whispers, and eventually, the sudden expelled breath, squeezed shut eyes as they gave in to their mounting excitement and came on stuttering breaths, foreheads pressed together, professions of love on their lips.

Tom tried to crawl into him after, and Chris let him, happy to keep him safe in his arms, stroke his back, hold him close. More calming than any sedative, this was, more reassuring than any written promises, better than any therapy he knew. He burrowed his face against Tom’s neck and held on for dear life, trying to work up the courage to believe that this would be here to stay, that he deserved it, and therefore would do anything to keep it.

They finally broke their bone-crushing embrace, both laughing under their breaths, a little embarrassed by being so carried away. But they found the same commitment in each other’s eyes, the same relief, the same determination to not let this slip away again so easily.

Drowsy with exhaustion and relief, they dozed off in each other’s arms, safe in knowing they would still be this committed when they woke up again.


	38. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Tom take their first hesitant steps in trying to face real life in a different way.

Tom woke pressed against Chris, his hand on his chest. He curled his hand around his ribs and squeezed, and received a squeeze in return.

"What's the time?" he murmured, so not ready to let this go.

Chris extended a long arm towards the table and took a look at his phone. "Four thirty."

"What time is Miss Rose going to be back?"

"Probably around five," Chris said.

Tom heard the muted clack of the phone being put back on the table, and then Chris' arm around his shoulder, holding him tight.

Neither of them said anything, but Tom's stomach cramped in anticipation of real life intruding on them again, most likely tearing them apart once more. His breath hitched and he burrowed his face against Chris' shoulder.

"I know," Chris said quietly, kissing the top of his head.

Tom couldn't say anything. He'd been stupid and jumped into this feet first once more, had given this another chance, was back in love with Chris, wanted a life with him like he didn't want anything else. He knew if this didn't work this time he'd... he'd probably do something drastic. He couldn't do this again. He could never do this again.

"Given that we're apparently both clueless," he said slowly, his heart thumping in his chest, "what... how...?"

"Will you look up and kiss me?" Chris asked.

Tom raised his head. "Is that going to solve anything?"

"Humor me?"

Chris was right, Tom discovered two kisses later. Lying on top of him and feeling how gentle he was with Tom, his broad hand on Tom's back, did help. A lot.

"So afraid," Tom finally admitted.

"Yeah. Me, too." Chris ran a hand through his hair.

"So afraid that if I admit I'm afraid I'll make you afraid, too," Tom said. "Then contemplating not saying anything so not upsetting you and then feeling wretchedly alone."

"Difficult," Chris acknowledged.

"Yeah." Tom attempted a smile and then placed a gentle kiss on the tip of Chris' nose. "I love you so damn much," he admitted, then his throat closed on him. He couldn't say more.

"Tell me what you need," Chris said.

"For this not to end," Tom said, laughing at himself. "Pixie fairies. A pony. A puppy for Christmas."

Chris slung his arms around him and held him tight.

"What do you need?" Tom managed to ask. Chris' chest rose at his question in a deep sigh. A long silence followed. "You're as constipated about saying what it actually is as I am, aren't you?"

A low chuckle was his answer. "Maybe," Chris said. "I have a few things... but they're less ethereal than yours."

"Hm?" Tom shifted so he could look at him.

"And more embarrassing," Chris said. "Because when I think about saying them out loud, I realize what a hypocrite I'm being."

"Like?"

"Like wanting you to support me unconditionally, but not being ready to be out with you," Chris said. "Wanting you to give me room to figure it out by myself, but expecting you to take care of my anxiety one hundred percent. It's all..." he sighed. "A huge knot of jumbled things and needs."

Tom studied him quietly, then finally said: "But the movies always made it look like once you were in love, things would be okay."

"Heh. Yeah."

"What does your Relationship 101 class say about that?" Tom said.

Chris chuckled dryly. "You don't want to know."

Tom bedded his head on Chris' chest again, sighing at the sensation of Chris' fingers gently tracing his spine.

"On a very practical note; we'll probably still have to talk to Keith today," Chris said. "Figure out the call times for tomorrow, get our sides."

"So we're going back?" Tom asked.

"We can't leave production hanging any longer," Chris said. "I'm going to have to find a way to make it up to everyone that they had to work around us taking time off."

"Are you up for it?" Tom lifted his head again to look at his boyfriend.

Chris gave him a thoughtful smile, his thumb brushing over Tom's lips. "When you're with me, I can do anything," he said.

"No pressure, huh?" Tom turned his head and placed a kiss into Chris' palm.

"No, I..." Chris sighed and fell quiet for a moment. "That's what I'm trying to say, that... this." He fell quiet again. "This, here, Tom. You and me." He fell quiet once more. "I can't do this without you," he said. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "It's everything." He looked so at a loss for words, working so hard to find the right way to say what he wanted to say. "Whatever anyone else wants from me, from us, I need this, us, to work, first. It's... I'm nothing without it."

Tom couldn't say anything, either. He gave Chris a small nod in acknowledgment.

"So that's got to come first," Chris said. "Whatever comes up, we need to look at it together, and we need to decide what to do about it together. We need to find ways to do it that puts us first, always."

"Yes." Something inside Tom loosened. "Yeah. That... sounds pretty good."

"Would you look at the mails I still have to answer with me, then?" Chris said. "Dad, and Elsa?"

"Yeah."

"Is there anything you need my help with...?"

"Not right now, honey." He smiled. "Wait, would you do dinner? I'm dying to hang out with India for a bit, I was thinking of giving her a bath."

"Yeah. Of course." Chris smiled back at him. "That kind of fits well, actually. I'd like to take a moment and write down a few things for Michael."

"Good things?" Tom wanted to know.

Chris inclined his head. "I'm fairly sure they'll be good," he said. "But honestly, most of the time I have no idea what will come out when I start writing."

"Well, we'll be right next door if you need us or it gets too much," Tom said. "You're not alone, Chris."

 

* * *

 

Miss Rose arrived with India just a smidgen after five. The baby was ecstatic to see her dad, and for a while, there was nothing but Chris and India celebrating that she was back home.

"On a side note," Miss Rose said to Tom over the sound of the baby's excited squeals and giggles as Chris nuzzled and tossed her in turns, "Keith asked me to give this to you." She produced a folder with the expected call sheets and a packet of sides, marked clearly for Tom and Chris, respectively. "Are you back at work tomorrow?"

"That's the plan," Tom said. He freed the call sheets and browsed them. "Okay, hmm... looks like an early morning again." They were scheduled to be picked up a quarter past six. "Are you up for it?"

"Sure." Miss Rose nodded. "The old schedule, then? I'll be here in the morning with her, you do lunches and breaks with her, and take her home?"

"Yeah. It'll be long days again."

"That's fine, I can use the overtime." Rose said.

“Chris is having a doctor’s appointment again on Thursday,” Tom said.

“Yes, I had that down. Do you want me to stay with India that evening?”

“We’ll have to wait for tomorrow’s call sheets,” Tom stalled. “As soon as we know, you’ll know.”

“Okay.” Rose smiled at him. “Everyone will be happy to have you guys back. The set’s not the same without you.”

“Oh?”

She shrugged. “Less fun,” she said. “You two always bring the good mood and the silly ideas.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She must have felt that he wasn’t too happy about where the conversation was heading, because she soon left. Tom realized he was starting to be a lot more guarded and protective about his relationship. Maybe that was a good thing.

Keith’s notes didn’t leave much room for questions. Tom gave him a call, anyway. He picked up right away.

“Thanks for the call sheets,” Tom said. “Everything got here fine and we’ll be back tomorrow as planned.”

“You might have noticed,” Keith pointed out. “That I’m calling every stunt double and stand-in for both of you. Don’t want you guys overdoing it. Stomach bugs are nasty business.”

“That’s very thoughtful, thank you.”

“Are you up for a long day?” Keith asked.

Tom rubbed his forehead. “I know I am,” he said. “It wasn’t as bad with me. Chris had it worse.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” For a long, hot moment, Tom realized so clearly that if Keith didn’t know that they were more than roommates, it would be very, very strange indeed. “Listen, I know Chris was thinking about wanting to make it up to everyone that we made things difficult for you guys…”

“Dealing with things like these is basically my job description,” Keith said, sounding amused. “You two are about the easiest going leads I get to work with.”

It made Tom smile. “That’s kind of you to say,” he said. “Either way, I know you had to work around us not being there, so… how can we make everyone happy tomorrow?”

“Hm.” Keith quickly had a few suggestions.

Tom smiled. “That sounds like a bunch of good ideas. Hold on, I’m going to ask Chris what he wants to do.” His heart was pounding when he punched the mute button and interrupted Chris’ raucous play with his daughter. But Chris wasn’t fazed by him taking matters into his own hands at all. Tom was back on the phone in no time.

“Keith?” he said, and when he got an acknowledgement: “The coffee cart and donuts it is. If you could bill me for the cart and Chris for the baking goods? Excellent. Thank you so much for helping us out.”

“I’ll be pulling Heidi and Beth in to help,” Keith said, mentioning their PAs.

“Of course, that sounds like a good idea. See you tomorrow?”

“See you then.”

 

* * *

 

“Did you have a look at the sides yet?” Chris asked him over tea. They were having coffee and cake, which India thought was about the most delicious thing ever, and a small bottle of fennel tea was waiting for her to be imbibed when she was finished.

“Um, let me see.” Tom took the packet out and transferred Chris’ to his side of the table, where he had to rescue it quickly from India’s grabby hands.

They perused the dialogue quietly, then Chris said: “Nothing really new, a few minor changes,” he said. “Do you want to have a quick read-through after tea? I don’t know about you but it looks like something I can memorize through make-up.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” They’d both said or memorized most of these lines before, in Iceland. “When do you want to do the mails to Elsa and your Dad?”

“If India is agreeable, while she has her tea in your lap,” Chris said. “I don’t want to be kept by that for too long, to be honest.”

“Okay.” So far, so good. Tom’s mood dared to lift slightly, both over the prospect of holding India, and that Chris was doing his best to give those mails their proper place.

But when he opened Elsa’s latest mail a few moments later, his face told Tom that it wasn’t good news.

“Do you need help?” he asked carefully, trying not to rouse the peacefully drinking baby in his lap.

“Oof,” Chris said. “Hold on.” He cradled his forehead in both hands, and didn’t look at the monitor for a while, just trying to collect his wits.

Tom didn’t say anything, but he toed Chris’ knee gently, letting him know he wasn’t alone.

“It’s always so over-the-top,” Chris said. “Hard to deal with.”

He ended up just turning the laptop around to Tom to read for himself, a first.

Tom squinted his eyes and read the very upset letter. “Oh my,” he said, but left it at that. It wasn’t his decision to make how Chris would respond to this.

“What do you think?” Chris asked. “And I’m saying this knowing that she’d much rather talk to you a lot of the time than to me, so… I know she values your input.”

“Oh.” Tom sighed, readjusting India in his arm. He looked at her, and then placed a kiss on her forehead. “This is really difficult,” he said. “How long have you not spoken to Elsa?”

“Um, since last Friday,” Chris said. “When I offered her to talk to India, and she refused, saying she wasn’t ready.”

“And has she indicated whether she’s coming to LA with us, or if she has different plans…?”

Chris shook his head. “Just the increasingly desperate mails,” he said. “Which I didn’t have the head space to answer.”

“Okay.”

“I mean she does say she wants to see her now,” Chris said. “That’s progress, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but… do you feel comfortable giving India to her for the whole weekend while she’s this upset?” Tom said. “I’m not. But I’m not her father, Chris.”

“I’d be afraid she’ll do something irrational and take her to Romania with her without my consent and I’ll never see her again,” Chris said. “We really need to get a legal mediator and put some of these things in writing.”

“That would mean having a conversation that lasts longer than five minutes with Elsa,” Tom said. “Without her starting to yell at you.”

“There is that.” Chris sighed. He was obviously concerned but didn’t show any signs of being overly anxious or panicked. That was a huge step forward.

“Can I make a suggestion?” Tom asked carefully.

“Yes, please.” Chris had to laugh. “That would be great.”

“I mean, I’m… in a way I’m just an observer,” Tom said. “I don’t even know if it’s applicable, but…”

“Just say it,” Chris prodded him gently. “Please.”

“I think she’s just reacting to not having seen or heard about India for so long, and not knowing what’s going on,” Tom said. “I mean, how would we feel if she had her and we hadn’t heard from them in days?”

“Awfully,” Chris admitted and grimaced.

“Address that first,” Tom suggested. “Send her a pic of India being fine and explain that you were really too sick to talk to her.”

“Maybe mention how confused I was after we talked the last time?” Chris suggested. “Because I really don’t know how to do right by her by now.”

“Sure.” Tom nodded.

“So should I tell her not to come this weekend? It seems cruel, she really wants to see India now…”

The thought of losing yet another weekend to Elsa made Tom want to puke. But he didn’t want to say anything, letting Chris figure out what he wanted to do about the situation.

But Chris looked at him for guidance. Tom didn’t know he had any.

“Chris, if I’m completely, utterly egotistical, the last thing I want is another long back-and-forth with Elsa today,” he finally said. “We both know how that goes; trying to do right by her, calling or texting back and forth, taking up our time, and us being completely exhausted and upset at the end of it because there is nothing left for us.” Tom exhaled. “I can’t do that any more.”

“No. No.” Chris shook his head. “That’s not what I was suggesting at all. Just… I know I can’t be objective about this. I was looking for a different point of view so I could make a better decision,” Chris said.

“What do you want?” Tom asked. “Before thinking about what Elsa wants or needs?”

“You,” Chris said. “Time with you and India. Mending what went wrong. Work on putting our relationship on solid feet.” He sighed, and shook his head. “Let me write the mail to Dad first.”

He turned the laptop around to him again and selected the other mail, then started typing for a bit. By the time he was done, so was India, and Tom lifted her to his shoulder to help her burp. She was more interested in footing his leg, though, and flirting with him. When the burp came, she exhaled it right into Tom’s face.

“Charming, cupcake,” he said.

She giggled and gnawed on her fist, then fell forward into his embrace, knocking heads with him.

“That’s right, baby. I love you, too.”

“Hey India,” Chris said. “Look at me, little girl.”

When she did, Tom saw that Chris was filming her with his phone.

“Hey India, did you have a good day with Miss Rose?” Chris asked.

India bounced and flailed.

“Are you a happy baby? Hm? Are you okay?”

She shrieked and clapped, her toes digging into Tom’s thigh. Reflexively, he took a cloth and wiped the drool off her chin.

“Are you going to… play with daddy and Tom now?”

India was obviously enthused about that.

“And… are you going to have a bath later, hm?”

India’s eyes grew round and she looked at Tom excitedly.

“I know, cupcake. Bubbles. I promise bubbles,” Tom said mildly, not sure where Chris was going with this.

“And should daddy tell you a story later?” Chris asked.

That didn’t get a huge response. India was obviously not yet ready for bed at all.

“Play?” Chris asked. “Should Tom take you to play?”

“If you keep riling her up like this, she’s not going to sit with us much longer,” Tom warned mildly.

Chris stopped the recording. “I have what I need,” he said. “Why don’t you take India to play and I take care of this?”

Tom furrowed his brow, but he got up with the baby, who tried to squirm her way out of his grip. He stopped by Chris’ side, lifted his chin and kissed him. “Love you,” he said.

“I’ll be right there,” Chris promised. “Just finishing up here.”

“You know where to find us,” Tom said. “If it gets too much.”

Chris smiled at him. “I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

Chris joined them half an hour later. Tom was on the floor with India, enjoying some very gentle roughhousing, and interacting with her, sharing toys back and forth. Chris just lay down behind him, which felt very intimate and close, and Tom turned his head for a kiss.

“Finished?”

“Uh-huh.” Chris accepted India’s toy phone from her and pretended to call her. “Ring ring! Ring ring!”

She mewled until he gave the phone back.

“Ah. I see what the game is now.”

“Uh-huh. Lessons in giving and taking and keeping,” Tom said. “She’s taught me quite a lot already.”

“Like never give her your phone if you ever want it back?” Chris said. “She taught me that already.”

They both laughed quietly.

“I sent Elsa the video,” Chris said. “Told her I’m very sorry for having worried her, that I was really sick and didn’t know what kind of contact she wanted now. Told her that India is more than fine and thriving.”

“That should have been her main concern,” Tom said. “I’m sure she’s glad to hear it.”

“We’ll see,” Chris said. “I vetoed the weekend.”

“Okay.” Tom meshed his hand with Chris’.

“But I offered her LA again as a way of growing into sharing responsibility for India. And that it would help if she wrote down what kind of contact she wants with her. Regular contact. Not come in and leave again. Told her to talk about it with Dr. Casey and her lawyer so we’d have something solid to work with when we meet.”

Tom didn’t answer. He turned in Chris’ embrace and kissed him. Kissed him in a way that apparently made Chris forget where he was and finally slip his hand under Tom’s shirt until India protested that there was no attention on her.

“I take it you approve?” Chris asked gently.

“You have no idea.”

 

* * *

 

They didn’t bother to pretend that they were going to be up to anything after bringing India to bed. Both men took a shower, but not together, and then met in their robes on the bed.

Chris had a few pages with him.

“Things you wrote earlier?” Tom asked. He headbutted Chris’ shoulder and then crawled to settle between his legs, cuddling himself in with his head on Chris’ hooked knee.

“You’re such a cat,” Chris chided gently, but ducked his head to exchange a soft kiss with Tom. It was supposed to be a quick peck, but they enjoyed it quite a lot, the soft touches and the new gentleness with each other. “Heh heh,” Chris finally smiled and rubbed noses with Tom.

Tom just sighed, rolling more on his back, so his robe opened and showed that he was wearing snug boxer briefs, but nothing else under it.

“Is that an invitation?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow at Tom.

“It could be,” Tom acknowledged. “Just feeling comfortable with you, that’s all.”

It was so much.

“Very tempting to throw this out,” Chris admitted, and sighed regretfully as he waved his pages.

Tom drew the robe around him closed. “Read to me,” he said earnestly.

“Hm, not sure… lots of it is unconnected jumble,” Chris stalled, as most writers did when asked to share a piece of very personal writing. “So, um…”

Tom got settled against his knee and closed his eyes, giving him time and space to sort himself out.

So much was different now. Each sign of trust was a gift. One that could be revoked at any moment. It wasn’t to be trifled with, nothing to take for granted. Chris’ heart swelled, and for a moment, he couldn’t say anything at all.

“Lots of notes on.. I don’t know. How amazing today was,” he shared shyly. Tom didn’t open his eyes, but nodded, which encouraged him to continue. “How… how much it meant that you showed me last night that it’s okay to be sad, that it’s okay to live with that. It… it really turned so much around,” Chris said. “I told my Dad today that I needed time to think and figure out how I want to deal with what he did - but basically, I just need time to heal and… yeah. Thank you for letting me know that it’s okay to be sad about everything that happened.”

Tom blinked and opened his eyes.

“I think I really got constipated on… on all that sadness and hurt building up, and… never knowing why or what… and then… didn’t want to feel the way I felt and… and then just blew up, and… and I’m so sorry about that, Tom.”

It wasn’t what Tom had expected, he could see that. And from the fact alone that Tom couldn’t reach out to him to say “I understand.” or “It’s okay,” he knew that what he’d done had really, really hurt Tom, and still hurt him now, and that he was still working on that, himself.

“Anyway,” Chris laughed humorlessly. He seemed to have got off the wrong intersection, somehow. Suddenly the atmosphere was a little tense again. “There’s all this scribbling here, about… feeling like I turned a corner,” he said, now not so sure he really had. “Like I’ve… kind of started something that I don’t know yet how it’s going to turn out, but… I’m so hopeful,” it broke out of him. “I’m so hopeful about the future again. Like that brick wall kind of… there’s a crack in it now, and I have no idea yet where it will lead, but… there’s a crack, and there’s light coming in. And maybe I’ll have bad days and maybe sometimes I’ll get scared in the dark, but - There’s a crack. I can see a bit of sky. It’s beautiful. Something is out there, and when I’m ready, I’m going to break down the wall for good and…”

“But right now being in that enclosed space still feels safe, doesn’t it?” Tom asked.

“Yeah.” Chris was stunned. “I… I didn’t… I had no idea,” he said, puzzled. “But yeah. It does.” Then immediately, “Is that bad?”

“It just is.” Tom reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of his face.

“I wrote,” Chris said, before his courage would leave him, “I wrote: ‘I know being with Tom broke me apart into many little pieces. I didn’t know something could ever hurt like this. I didn’t know I could feel so lost. But I feel now that it needed to happen. I wasn’t who I was supposed to be. Being with Tom broke me apart. But being with Tom is now mending me again, this time in the right shape.’” He let the hand holding the pages sink. “Does that even make any sense?”

Tom was crying. He was just nodding.

Chris let his pages fall to the floor and lay down with his lover, instead, scooping Tom into his arms.

No further words were necessary.


	39. Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Chris' first day back at work comes with an auspicious start.

Tom had expected to be worried about going back to work, and how it would all pan out, but he had not counted on this kind of worry.

Chris had taken his new medication at 5 am, as he’d promised Michael, and he wasn’t dealing well with it. He sat at the breakfast table with Tom with a cup of coffee and a sweet roll and looked utterly miserable.

“Honey, you’ll have to ask the medical service to look in to you as soon as you’re at the set,” Tom said.

“Ugh.” Chris cradled his head in his hand. He’d been having dizzy spells for the past half hour, felt sick to his stomach, and had a headache, none of which was in the least conductive to working on a demanding set. “I’m never taking this stuff again.”

“Are you at least feeling calm about it?” Tom asked facetuously.

Chris gave him a look and lobbed a piece of roll at him, then winced. “Not right now.”

“Do you want to call in sick again?” Tom said.

“Will you go?” Chris asked pitifully.

“I have to, Chris.” Tom sighed. “I already told Keith that you’ve had it much worse than I did, and that I’m up to working a full day. I can’t back out of it now.”

“Then I’m going,” Chris decided right away. “I hope medical has something against the dizziness and upset stomach.”

“You should have tea, not coffee” Tom chided. “I have some over-the-counter remedies for both, but I’m not sure how well they’ll mix with your medication.”

“I’ll have to tell nurse what I took,” Chris lamented.

“Yup.” Tom eyed him carefully, then got up to retrieve a herbal remedy from his medicine cabinet. “Here,” he said. “Have 25 drops of this in your tea for the nausea. It should not make matters worse, at least.”

Chris was a pitiful patient. He grimaced at the bitter taste of the medicine, but took the prescribed dosage. Tom made sure to set it on the dresser in the hallway to take along. They'd would want to know what he’d taken, and if it worked, it would be a low-impact way to keep Chris’ nausea in check.

Andrew was cheerful about picking them up at a quarter past six, but at the sight of Chris, a bit wobbly on his feet and white as a sheet, he quickly got out of the car to help him into the front seat.

Chris wasn’t happy about not being able to lean against Tom during the commute, but saw the wisdom of sitting in the less motion sickness inducing front seat. Apparently the herbal remedy helped a little, but he was still feeling dizzy and had a thumping headache.

Tom called Michael’s office on Chris’ behalf, asking them to call him back as soon as someone was in. Apparently their office hours started at 9, which made sense since they kept such late hours, but it was really inconvenient now. Tom called Keith next to have medical service on stand by as soon as they arrived.

Chris groaned, upset about causing such a fuss on his first day back.

“Honey,” Tom said before he could think about the fact that Andrew was in the car with them. “I know it’s a fuss now, but the side effects of that pill are bound to wear off. Let medical help you now, then you can go about business as usual for the rest of the day.”

He caught Andrew giving him a conspiratorial look in the rear view mirror. “There are sick bags in the back,” he said helpfully. “Better give him one.”

Chris gave him an upset look, but when Tom handed him the bag in question, he held on to it all the same.

 

* * *

 

Arriving on set wasn’t much fun, either. The medic on call was a young man in his twenties, and he helped Chris out of the car and into a wheel chair, which was humiliating in itself.

Chris craned his neck for Tom, a stricken look of indecision on his face. He so wanted Tom to come along, that was painfully clear, but at the same time, it would draw attention to the fact that he direly needed his support.

He finally gulped and held out a hand. “Please come with me?”

“Okay.” Tom stepped closer and put a hand on Chris’ shoulder. Then he turned to Andrew. “Would you mind letting Keith know that we’re there? I’ll be in make-up as soon as I get away.”

“No problem. Will do.”

 

* * *

 

Tom walked alongside the wheel chair as Chris was pushed into the first aid station. Chris was seated on a medical bed and his blood pressure and pulse checked, while the medic asked the relevant questions.

“Have you taken this medication before?” he wanted to know.

Chris shook his head. He named the brand he had used the previous days. “I had them prescribed for anxiety,” he said. “And we wanted to use this brand at work because it was supposed to make me less sleepy.”

“Well, are you sleepy?” the medic asked, a twinkle in his eye.

“Not particularly,” Chris said.

“So that worked, at least.”

Tom was glad to see that Chris could smile about that.

“Listen, I’m going to put you on an IV drip for an hour,” the medic said. “A simple electrolyte solution should help your body clear out the medication faster. Do you have any alternative medication to take?”

Chris shook his head.

“I’ve called his therapist to get back to us as soon as possible,” Tom said. “But the office only opens at 9.”

“In the meantime, I’m going to ring our on-call doctor to check back with him what we can do to keep you relaxed but alert during the day,” the medic said. “But first, get comfortable. I’ll be right back with the drip.”

He stepped out into the corridor, leaving Tom and Chris alone for a moment. Chris lay back on the medical bed and reached out for Tom’s hand. Tom stepped towards the head of the bed, leaned over Chris and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, taking Chris’ proffered hand, rubbing it.

“It doesn’t feel okay now,” Chris lamented.

“Okay, you have exactly sixty seconds to complain,” Tom said facetiously. “Make them count.”

Chris blinked up at him and then proceeded to moan and complain about how horrible he felt and how horrible the world was and why nothing ever worked the way it was supposed to.

At the end of it, he heaved a huge sigh and said: “Okay. Finished.”

Tom laughed softly.

When the medic came back in, Chris only let go of Tom’s hand when he had to, because the medic needed the arm in question for the IV line. A moment later, there was a knock at the door. It was Keith.

“Good morning,” he said softly when asked to come inside. “How are things here?”

Chris turned his head to look at him, and then at Tom. Then he said: “Not an auspicious start.”

“I heard.” Keith said. “I’m tempted to send you right back home.” He tried to look stern, but Tom could see the genuine concern for Chris’ well being in his eyes.

“It’s only a minor setback,” Chris maintained. “I’m going to be up in no time.”

“Uh-huh.” Keith reached out and touched his shoulder. “You stay right on your back until you feel better. Tom, can I talk to you for a moment outside?”

“Um, sure.” He turned towards Chris. “I’ll be right back, Chris.”

“Okay.” Chris didn’t quite stick out his lower lip but it was clear that toughing it out was not really in his vocabulary this morning.

Keith waited for the door to clap in their backs, before he asked: “So, tell me the truth, how bad is it?”

“Um…” Tom sighed and then went for broke. “He tried some new medication this morning that doesn’t agree with him. We were told that the IV should help him flush it out faster. Honestly, he was doing quite well yesterday afternoon. I really think it’s a temporary setback.”

“Seeing this mountain of a bloke knocked out is not a pretty picture,” Keith said. “Makes you fear the worst right away.” He took a look at his clipboard and scratched his scalp with his pen. “Can we use you?”

“As long as you keep me updated on how he’s doing,” Tom said, pointing his thumb at the door.

“Good, because it’s slowly spinning into a difficult case,” Keith admitted. “I’m going to have to rearrange this morning’s schedule to make it work, but… we might… hm…” He scribbled and drew a few circles and arrows on his call sheet for the day. “Okay, you need to get into make-up right away; and I’ll have them speed up Natalie’s schedule so you can be in this scene together. She was supposed to come in a little later, but I think we can manage that. Any time Chris is ready, he can join you two for his side of the take, but at least we have the both of you.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Tom nodded. “Chris will appreciate it.”

“Would you tell him?” Keith asked. “I’ve got to go get that into gear… please don’t linger though, we really need to get going if we want to stay somewhat on schedule, and make-up is already waiting for you.”

“I’ll try, but I’m not making promises,” Tom said, surprising himself. “He’s had a few really rough days. I want to make sure he’s okay before I leave here.”

“Of course.” A call came in on Keith’s radio. “I’ve got to go - see you on set later.”

“Thank you.”

When Tom got back into the room, Chris seemed a lot calmer, settling into the inevitable.

“Good news,” Tom said, drawing a chair close to sit by Chris’ side. “Keith is going to start Nat and I on the scene. You can come in for turnarounds any time you feel ready, or even do it another day if you aren’t. Everything’s going to be okay.” He couldn’t resist reaching out and brushing an imaginary strand of hair out of Chris’ face. The medic had seen them hold hands. There wasn’t much he wasn’t already suspecting.

“I feel so stupid,” Chris said, but he caught and held Tom’s hand against his cheek.

“You did everything right,” Tom said.

“I should have tried it out yesterday, like Michael said.”

“I wouldn’t trade yesterday for anything,” Tom said.

“No.” Chris gave him a shy smile. “You’re right. I wouldn’t, either.”

The curtain in the back opened and the medic came back out, followed by another man. “This is Dr. Roscoe, our doctor on call,” he introduced him.

Tom got up and put the chair away. “How do you do?”

“Do you need to leave?” Chris asked, craning his neck.

“I’d like to stay until we know what’s going on, if that’s all right?”

“If you are amicable?” Dr. Roscoe asked Chris.

Chris nodded.

The doctor went through his history with him, did a few checks, and discussed his reaction to the medication with him. “I know that practice,” he said when Chris mentioned Michael. “If you don’t mind, I’ll give them a call later to discuss your options.”

“That would be ideal,” Chris said.

“Right now, though,"Dr. Roscoe said,"I don’t see a reason why a round of IV fluids and some medication for your symptoms shouldn’t have you up and running again in no time. Nurse is going to stay here to monitor you and I’ll be back later to check up on you and hopefully clear you for work.” He turned to the medic and named a few measurements of medication that were supposed to go in with the drip, then shook everyone’s hands and left again.

“I’ll have to go,” Tom said. “I’ll let Keith know what the doctor said.”

“Can we text while you’re in make-up?” Chris asked hopefully.

It was awkward to have to leave. Tom didn’t really want to. He would rather stay here, hold Chris’ hand and talk to him until he had proof that he was doing better.

“I’d be upset if we didn’t,” he assured Chris. “Hurry up and get better.”

“Okay. I will.” Apparently, Tom had said the right thing.

Still, it felt as if he had to leave his heart behind when he trudged through the darkness towards the make-up trailer. He had no idea how Chris intended to keep it a secret that they were together if they carried on like this. But it was Chris’ little box of safety that he had to choose to leave at some point, not Tom’s.

For the first time, he was quite content with waiting until it would happen.

 

* * *

  
Apparently news of Chris' predicament had not reached the set as a whole yet, because Tom was greeted cheerfully and asked if he and Chris were feeling better, and told how nice it was to have them back. Tom decided not to betray Chris' confidence and pretend that things were okay and he would show up any minute now, which he hoped he would.

He kept checking his phone while Sophie, his make-up artist, applied his foundation, and he grinned at the pathetic texts he got from Chris.

"New girlfriend?" Sophie asked knowingly.

"Huh? No." Tom blinked and turned the phone upside-down.

"Relax, I'm not reading your texts." Sophie patted his shoulder.

"Oh. Heh heh heh." He knew he was blushing but hoped that the pale make-up covered it.

"You bounced in here and have been grinning like a lovesick loon ever since," Sophie said. "Complete with happy sighs. It must have been a good couple of days off."

"We were sick," Tom said laconically. "Define 'good'."

"Sometimes it's nice to be taken care of," Sophie said, applying a last dab of his pale foundation. "Okay, that looks fine. Let me just get the airbrush set..."

Tom used the time to type out a quick message to Chris. Apparently the drip was already doing its magic: Chris had to pee really urgently but didn't know how to ask to get up. Tom teased him about being shy, and Chris answered something about only one person he wanted to see him naked... it was rather adorable.

Tom knew he was wearing a really stupid grin when Sophie raised a knowing brow at him as she settled down with her airbrush. She didn't say anything, just got to work on Tom's cheekbones.

Tom used the moment to type out a quick: "Should I come down and help?" He sent it off and knew it was a huge mistake; the answer couldn't do anything but make him squirm even more. Sophie might try not to read his texts, but...

Chris sent a blushing smiley face back, and an emoticon of a rapidly beating heart. "Don't tempt me," he texted with the icons. "Peeing not easier while fantasizing about this in detail."

Tom knew his ears must glow at this point. He tilted the screen away from Sophie and typed: "Love you loads."

Chris sent a smiling face back. "Love you, too."

Tom knew he'd been happily sighing again when Sophie gave him another knowing look. "I'm not saying anything," she said. "Just thinking really loudly." But her smile was friendly and warm.

 

* * *

 

By the time Tom was through make-up and costume, it was clear that Chris was feeling much better and would be able to get up and into the process himself, as soon as Dr. Roscoe had cleared him

It added to Tom's good mood, and he easily chatted and joked with the crew while they waited for the last set-up. Soon after, Alan and Natalie showed up, both expressing their delight that Tom was back and feeling better. A message came in from Miss Rose that India was awake now and was in good spirits, which also helped Tom's mood accordingly.

In short, his first day back couldn't go better, really. Working with Natalie was always a delight, and they playfully bounced a few options for the scene back and forth with Alan until they had settled on a tone. Everyone was fresh and eager to work, so they got a lot done in a very short time.

Alan requested a different set-up for one of the cameras and the light needed to be changed accordingly, when Tom suddenly heard Chris' voice. It felt like a jolt was going through his whole body and he was suddenly painfully reminded of the fact that he had no idea how Chris wanted to handle this. Was he supposed to rush to his side, or stay back?

He stayed back for the time being, watching everyone else crowd around Chris to welcome him. It did hurt, that caring for Chris seemed to mean having to keep his distance – knowing how much they loved each other never quite made up for it. Their eyes met across the distance and Chris' expression communicated so much – that he knew what difficult position he was putting Tom in, that he loved him desperately, and that he really wanted to be with him right now, not surrounded by people he didn't care about.

It wasn't enough, and it never would be. Tom would wait, but he couldn't help his feelings. He turned away and sat down away from the commotion, accepting a cup of juice and an energy bar from his PA. Chris would be busy saying hello to the crew, Alan would want to talk to him, then they'd shoot the scene again with the changed camera setup and then it was time for Chris to get ready for his turnaround. A set was an insanely public place, crowded with people who saw each other every day. There was no real privacy to be had, and that was just how it was.

"Excuse me," he heard Chris say at the other end of the set. "Excuse me, I'll be right back."

A moment later, Chris sat down by his side, their thighs and hips touching. Chris put a hand between Tom's shoulder blades and ducked his head towards him. "Are you okay?"

Tom thought about lying but he just shook his head.

"Okay." People came over to say hello, but Chris just stayed where he was, his hand against Tom's back in silent support. Even when Alan came over to explain what they'd been doing and to ask whether Chris would like to say his own lines now even though he wasn't on camera, he didn't change his position at all.

Tom didn't quite know what to think. Chris had just come over and stayed, but what did that mean? They obviously couldn't talk openly or mention their relationship in any way. On the other hand, it wasn't like Chris was actively avoiding him, either, on the contrary.

Tom found himself leaning against Chris when Alan was gone, and closing his eyes, just for a moment. The leather of his costume was too thick to feel Chris' thumb caressing him, but he knew it did.

The first AD came over to ask them to assume their positions, and Chris helped Tom up.

"Will you be okay?" Tom asked him for the first time.

"Yeah." Chris gave him a nod and a smile. "As long as I'm somewhere with you, it's going to be okay."

Tom wanted to lean over and kiss him, but of course that was also impossible. But he realized he was still holding the hand Chris had used to help him up. He pressed it but then let go and took a step back. He knew he was hurting Chris by showing him how much he struggled with this, but he couldn't help it.

The emotional turmoil didn't help his concentration, either. He flubbed several lines that he had just a moment ago been reciting without a hitch, just because Chris was standing there, answering in person. It looked like he didn't deal well with being turned inside-out, either, his emotions on his sleeve. He didn't want to lose the contact with Chris, but he couldn't quite work this way, either. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on his work, pushing away what didn't belong here.

Apparently, Chris knew what he was doing. When he opened his eyes again, there was just Thor in front of him, with no sign of Chris. He could work with that. And Chris had just shown him that they were in this together. Onward and upward, then.

He threw himself into the work with renewed vigor.

 

* * *

 

Lunch time rolled around eventually, and while the crew secured the set, Tom and Chris had the heavy leather and armor taken off and hung up for later use.

"I've asked Miss Rose to bring India up for lunch with us," Chris said. "I would love to lie down a bit with her afterwards."

Tom nodded. "Still exhausted?"

"A break won't hurt."

"No." Tom gave him a hesitant smile, still not quite sure where the road was leading today.

"You?"

"Do I feel like I want to lie down?"

"My trailer has a nice sofa."

Rrrrright. Like Tom's trailer wasn't equipped the same way Chris' was. "Sure. Why not."

This was horribly transparent. It was so, so transparent. But oh, lying down for a bit with Chris sounded heavenly. Just the three of them in one bed, snuggling...

And anyone listening to them must think they were crazy. If they went back to Chris' trailer together... which they'd been doing, for weeks. Spending lunches together with India. They'd been inseparable for weeks. How did no one suspect what was going on?

"Have you heard back from Elsa?" Tom wanted to know as they left the stage and made their way towards the lunch tent.

"Oh look, there's Miss Rose already with India," Chris obfuscated.

"Tell me what you want to eat and I'll get our orders," Tom said. "Then tell me what she wrote."

Chris sighed. "Okay."

By the time Tom was back with two trays filled to capacity, India was still celebrating seeing her daddy again. When she saw Tom, he could hardly put the food down before she flung herself from her dad's arm into his, and he had to swing her around and toss her a few times before she indicated that she now wanted a big hug, and then couldn't wait to start eating.

Once he'd put her in her high chair and fixed the bib around her neck, he finally had time to sit down and only then noticed the indulgent grins of everyone watching them. He pretended not to see it and cut one of his steamed carrots into baby-sized cubes and transferred them to her tray. She immediately picked one up in a pincer-like grip and ignored completely Chris' proffered spoon.

"You're spoiling her," Chris complained.

"Like you aren't," Tom said mildly. He flicked a pea at Chris and grinned.

"Hey!"

Tom smiled innocently and began eating. A casual look around revealed more people watching them. Tom waved at everyone, and suddenly, they had other things to do.

"How are we not out?" he whispered towards Chris. "Jesus Christ."

Chris blinked at him, completely oblivious.

Tom sighed and decided to change the subject. "Elsa?" he asked.

Chris held a finger up for him to wait, finished feeding another spoonful to India, and then fished out his phone. He opened his mail program and pushed the phone over for Tom to see.

Tom still wasn't quite comfortable with the idea that he was now reading Elsa's private mails to Chris, but figured that if things got really personal, Chris would revert to keeping them to himself again.

As it turned out, it wasn't Elsa's private mail to Chris, but that of her lawyer. For a moment, Tom's heart sank. "Oh, Chris." He immediately worried how Chris might take this newest turn of events. "It's not from Elsa."

"Read it," Chris said.

It was a very formal mail that let him know that Elsa had contacted him to represent her in all matters to do with custody of their child and that at this point, his client requested to be informed about the well-being of her daughter daily by mail, no more and no less than that.

"Chris, that's what she wanted from the get-go."

"I know," Chris said.

"So the baby board, and us trying to get her to talk to India..."

"I should've just done what she asked me to do in the first place," Chris said.

"When did this mail arrive?"

"This morning when I was on the drip," Chris said. "I sent it to Hank and asked him to recommend a barrister in London who can represent me here. Australia's just too far away."

"Oh."

"Did you read the end of the mail?"

Tom did it now. "She basically agrees to everything you proposed," he said. "But still no word on L.A."

"When I have a name and contact here in London, I'm going to send him all the material I've collected about what I would like for India," Chris said.

"He'll want to see you."

"He'll have to come here. Between work and therapy I'm not willing to cut more time out of my life with you and India," Chris said. "And I'd like you to be there, as well."

"Oh."

They ate quietly for a moment. Chris was a little agitated now, which was to be expected regarding the topic, but at no time today had he seemed too on edge to work or function. He was just going to ask if Dr. Roscoe had been giving him a different kind of medication, or if he'd talked to Michael, when Chris said:

"You know when I'm specifying that I want to share custody with Elsa, I'm not saying that you shouldn't play a role in India's life."

"Uh..."

"I know it may come across like that, and I'm sorry if it does."

"But that should be the smallest of your problems right..."

"No." Chris said firmly. "How you feel about this is really important to me."

"Oh." Apparently, Chris had a great ability to render him speechless today.

"I know how important India is to you and how much you worried when we took her in. I don't want you to think I don't see that, or how much she loves you."

"But Elsa his her mother," Tom said quietly.

"Yes," Chris said. "And I don't know if it's... no, I don't think it is, to be honest. I don't think she's trying to trick me or lead me around. I think it's really hard for her right now. I just want to figure out what I can do so she's not out of India's life forever."

Tom couldn't help but reach over and cover Chris' hand. "She's not out of India's life forever. I refuse to believe that."

"I just want to keep the door open for her," Chris said. "And I'm afraid that if I hand in a paper saying that in case she doesn't want India, I'm in a stable, loving relationship with someone who is more than ready to be India's other parent... I'm afraid it might make Elsa think she's not needed any more. Make it easier for her to close that door behind her."

"She will not abandon India," Tom said. "Never. Never ever, Chris."

"I really hope so. I could never forgive..." Chris stopped there and sighed.

"But you have my permission to write all that," Tom said quietly. "I can write it all down if you want to." It was such a huge step, such a big commitment. But just saying it felt like such a relief, as if making his feelings towards India and raising her with Chris feel more real when spoken out loud. "I'm ready to take on full responsibility for her, you know that."

"I know."

"But you're right, she needs her mum. In some capacity. In some way Elsa needs to be in India's life. I wonder..." He sighed, and took another bite of his chicken.

"Hm?"

"I really wonder if just leaving it open to Elsa when she wants to come back and see India, and not constantly make all these offers isn't the best way to do it. So she can really... I don't know. Calm down a bit, take care of herself first. Just take a huge step back."

"That's what she wanted to do when she left, and now it's four and a half weeks later and I've been after her about India all the time," Chris said. "Ah, shucks."

"You meant well," Tom said.

"Didn't do good, though. I need to start listening to what people tell me," Chris said. "Read this git's letter to me again?"

Tom grinned and picked up Chris' phone to do so.

"Okay, so – one mail a day, with possible pictures attached, no videos, and wait for her lawyer to contact me with a date for a mediation meeting. Otherwise, keep my distance."

"That's what it says."

"I may not agree with it, but it's what I'm going to do for once," Chris said. "See if that works better than what I've been doing so far."

 

* * *

 

Tom made sure that the door was locked, twice, but as soon as he turned around, he found himself in Chris' arms, flush against his front, and kissed. So, yeah, his makeup would get smudged, and so would Chris' and _oh no what a tragedy_ and they might be caught, but... who the hell cared, really, when kissing Chris felt so damn good and so right, and so like finally having a drink after having been parched for way too long. If they hadn't brought the baby, whom Chris had deposited in her swing seat right away, he knew he would've torn Chris' clothes off, just to be as close to him as he possibly could. Their hands were roaming in impossible places as they were, and Tom had to think of a fantasy Chris had once admitted to; having Tom go down on him in full Loki costume with helmet – which would be cumbersome at best, but the idea of Chris guiding him by the gilded horns did have something.

"Damn, I need you so much," Chris finally sighed, and they both chuckled breathlessly.

"Yeah." Tom stood on his tiptoes, even though it was barely necessary, but raising his arms over Chris' shoulders to muss his hair exposed his sensitive midriff, and feeling Chris' arms around him that way felt wonderful. They kissed again, intensely, but a little bit slower, until India mewled for attention.

They piled into bed, both facing each other with their legs entwined, and India between them, who thought she was in heaven, with all those cuddles and attention on her. She happily had an after-lunch tea bottle, leaving Chris and Tom to do nothing but gaze forlornly at each other like stupidly love-sick teenagers.

It was so worth it.

Chris actually drifted off eventually and Tom cried a little; not really sure why. Maybe from relief, or from happiness, or maybe because he, too, began to _hope_... hope that there was a future with this in it, for a very, very long time.

He had to wake Chris after twenty minutes, because he knew they'd be called back to set soon, and he knew their make-up was completely ruined now and needed to be fixed. He leaned over and kissed Chris awake, and was then caught in the most vice-like hug he'd ever been caught in. But he returned it, and laughed about it, and they wrestled a little until they fell out of bed, giggling, with a concerned India calling for them.

When they returned to set half an hour later, nothing but smiling faces greeted them, and Alan wasn't the only one to say how nice it was to have them back, always inspiring people to be at their best.

As recommendations came for their working together, even under these conditions, it could have been much worse.


	40. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is getting a call from his father while picking up Chris from therapy.

James Hiddleston's call came at the most inopportune moment the next day.

Tom had initially ignored the call, both hands full with India, her nappy bag, a fresh tea bottle, and trying to wrestle all of it into the cab that was waiting for him at the end of a long day. They were no five minutes into the drive, India now safely ensconced in her seat and sucking on her bottle, when the phone rang again.

Knowing that his father never left a voice mail or text message, Tom sighed and picked up.

"Hello?"

"Tom! There you are."

"On my way back home from set," Tom said. "Sorry I didn't pick up earlier, I had my hands full."

"We haven't heard from you in a while."

"Oh Dad." Tom sighed. "I'm so busy."

"Hm." It sounded disapproving.

"What's up?" Tom asked. He knew he sounded tired. He was tired. He just wanted to get home.

"Victoria and I are in London on Saturday, for the premiere of _Falstaff_ ," James said. "We'd like to take you and Chris out to dinner beforehand."

Tom rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That's very nice of you," he said, falling back on politeness. "Let me talk about it with Chris later."

"You don't know if you're free on Saturday?" James probed.

"Let me talk about it with Chris later," Tom repeated.

"If you don't want to go, just say so," James said, piqued. "I am just trying to make an effort."

"Dad..." Tom huffed out a humorless laugh. "I'm at the back end of a 14-hour-day. All I want is to go home, have something to eat and collapse. I'm sorry if I can't give you an answer right now."

India was done with her bottle and pushed Tom's hand, holding it, away. An instant later, a gush of regurgitated tea was dribbling down the front of her coat.

"Ah, shit," Tom cursed reflexively.

"Watch you language," James said, equally reflexively.

"Dad, let me call you back later," Tom said. "I need to take care of the baby. Thank you for calling."

And he hung up.

He was anxious about picking up Chris, not knowing how his boyfriend's therapy had gone today, what mood he would find him in, what had come up and needed to be dealt with later. Chris had left the set early, and Tom had stayed to pick up his slack, but they had run longer than anticipated. Then Miss Rose had had to leave, so Tom had to take a terrifically entertained India with him into costume and make up, which meant that things were taking even longer because everyone was making a fuss about her. Tom had left the set when Chris was finished with therapy, and now Chris was waiting to be picked up. The drive seemed to last forever, Tom's stomach in knots.

When they finally arrived, Chris was already waiting outside the office building, bundled up in his heavy coat, chin hidden in his collar, beanie pulled low into his face. He trotted over to the cab and knocked on Tom's window.

Tom rolled it down. "Get in?" he asked.

"Do we want to go for dinner?" Chris asked, shifting from one foot to the other. "I'm kind of antsy."

"I'm dead tired," Tom admitted. "India is fussy. We're both super hungry."

"That fits with dinner," Chris tried.

"Not tonight?" Tom smiled apologetically. "My people meter is maxed out."

Chris was visibly disappointed. "Okay," he said, and sighed. "I was kind of looking forward to it."

"Another time," Tom said.

"Should I call in for dinner, then?" Chris asked.

"That sounds like a plan."

"Okay." Chris jogged around the cab and got in the other side.

India greeted him excitedly. Tom told the driver their home address and leaned his head against the cool window, letting the excitement wash over him.

"Her coat is wet," Chris pointed out.

"She spit up her tea," Tom said. "I tried to mop it up. Sorry if it didn't work okay."

Chris drew a breath to say something, and then he squinted his eyes and looked at Tom. "Are you okay?"

"Just really, really tired," Tom reiterated. "Today kicked my butt."

India's bulky seat kept Chris from reaching for his hand, but Tom could see that he would've liked to.

"Let me call in for dinner," Chris said. "Something simple?"

"I'd be happy with roast chicken and potatoes," Tom sighed. "I don't care as long as it's hot and filling."

"Okay." Chris dug out his phone, and made a call to the small, family-run restaurant in their neighborhood they liked to visit. When he was finished, he wrestled the nappy bag out of its spot in the foot space and rummaged in it until he'd found some of India's biscuits. He handed India one, kept one for himself, and gave the rest of the package to Tom. "Here," he said. "To tide you over."

"Thanks." Tom shot him a thankful look. "I forgot we had that packed."

Chris smiled at him. "It's okay."

 

* * *

  
They reached home half an hour later, packed with baby, food, and nappy bag. India needed a change, so Chris took her, while Tom quickly set the table in the kitchen.

"Babe, you look like you're about to fall out of you chair," Chris said. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I have no news," Tom said self-deprecatingly. "Still super tired."

"Hm." It wasn't exactly how Chris had envisioned his evening, but watching Tom struggling to keep his eyes open appealed to his protective instincts. "Do you want to lie down for a bit?" he asked. "I can take India for a long bath with me."

"You sure?"

Chris nodded. "I know you're there," he said. "In case I need you."

"Of course," Tom said.

"Then that's settled," Chris said. "You curl up on the sofa and we go for a swim."

 

* * *

  
Half an hour later, he tucked Tom in on the recliner and dimmed the light for him. But India got fully invested in settling Tom down for taking a nap, and kept wanting to read him a story, so Chris finally propped her on one knee and got out one of her hardback pocket picture books, which she "narrated", and Chris translated.

Many goodnight-kisses from India later, and one from Chris for good measure, Chris could finally wrestle his daughter from his boyfriend's side to afford him a bit of rest. To be sure, Tom looked ready to melt, and not that he minded that much. He had to close his eyes and settle down before India was satisfied that he was really sleeping. Chris suspected he was already halfway out by the time they left the living room for India's bath.

It felt nice, he decided, to take care of Tom like that. He was a bit worried, because Tom was usually full of life, for him to shut down like this, and hoped he wouldn't come down with something for real. That would be too ironic, not to mention difficult. But on the whole, he found that he was at peace with Tom needing some rest, and him providing the space for him to take it.

Curiously, the evening continued at this mellow pace, with Chris playing in the bathtub with India for almost an hour, and then taking his time to get her dressed and ready for bed. The living room was still dark when they tiptoed through it. India insisted on looking whether Tom was still asleep, and Chris carried her close enough for her to see that he was, indeed, still lying on his side with his eyes closed, which India found very exciting.

"Let's be very quiet," Chris whispered, putting a finger on his lips. "Let's go make some tea for Tom, hm?"

India was happy to sit in her bouncer on the kitchen table while Chris heated some water for her bottle and a pot of tea for himself and Tom. Midway through him shaking the bottle, a very sleepy Tom appeared in the doorway, and made a beeline for him.

Chris had to put down the bottle to catch him and held him in his arms, inhaling his sleepy scent.

"I take it napping didn't help?" he asked, rubbing Tom's back.

Tom shook his head and didn't budge. Chris just held him, rocking him gently. There was a quietude and stillness in the way they were with each other tonight that wouldn't have been possible even a few days ago. Chris would certainly not have been able to quiet his mind enough to let this happen.

Finally, India kicked and wanted their attention.

"I think I'm going to take a shower," Tom said, sighing. "Maybe that'll wake me up."

"Okay." Chris brushed through his hair and kissed him lightly.

"You certainly smell better than I do," Tom complained.

"Ah. L'eau de baby shampoo," Chris said.

"Did she have fun?"

"I'd say so."

Tom gave him a last squeeze and then pushed off, sighing. "No point in putting it off."

Chris reeled him back in for another kiss. They both smiled, and Chris felt a small ball of happiness and contentment explode in his chest. "Love you," he said.

"Love you, too," Tom said, and took just one more moment in Chris' arm to rest before pulling away for good.

 

* * *

  
Tom's phone rang while Chris was playing with India on her play rug. It wasn't his, so he ignored it, but when it rang three times in the span of fifteen minutes, he was curious and took a look at the lit display, discovering that it was James Hiddleston.

Tom joined them soon, now also smelling freshly showered, and in just his pajamas. He seemed a little more alert, and it was very obvious that he'd really been looking forward to spending some time with India before she had to go to bed. He got down with them right away and was happy to take over the baby, who was equally happy to climb all over him.

Chris rolled on his side, his head in his hand, watching the little love fest on display, and then said: "Your dad's called three times while you were under the shower."

Tom sighed.

"Do you know what he wants?"

"He called earlier when we were on our way to pick you up," Tom said, giving the rambunctious little girl on his belly a tickle. "I had to cut him short when she spit up over her coat."

"And he wanted...?" Chris probed.

Tom sighed again, indicating that he wasn't too happy with his father's request. He rolled his eyes to look at Chris and said: "He and Vicky are going to be in town on Saturday. They hold season passes for the opera and go to every opening night. It's _Falstaff_ this weekend. He invited us to have dinner with him and Vicky beforehand."

"Oh."

"Do you want to go? I told him I wanted to talk to you first."

"Is it going to be formal?" Chris asked.

"He's asking us out before going to the opera; I'm fairly sure it is. He'll probably be in tails for all I know."

"Hm." Chris settled his head in the crook of his elbow and watched Tom play with his daughter. "I think I'd really like to, but not this weekend," he finally said.

Tom gave him a look.

"It may be totally selfish of me but after what I've been putting you through, I was really looking forward to just... I don't know. I'm not done," he said, indicating his head. "I want more uninterrupted time with you."

"Me, too." Tom gave him a shy smile.

"Do we want to ask them to the party next weekend?" Chris asked.

"They'd have to be on our turf. I'm not sure he's willing to do that," Tom said. "He might feel awkward."

"Is Sannah coming?"

"I think at this point you'd have to beat her with a crowbar to keep her from doing that," Tom said. "She won't be too happy seeing him, though."

"Ugh." Chris had to laugh. "Your family's a complicated lot."

Tom's face told him that he was in touchy territory. "No kidding."

"Do we want to ask Steve and Luke to come?" Chris asked.

"That would be nice," Tom mused.

His phone started ringing again.

"Stay here, I'll get it," Chris said, and swung up to retrieve the brightly lit phone. "Tom's phone, Chris speaking."

He saw Tom laugh quietly and shake his head. "How couple-y of you," he mouthed.

Chris winked at him.

"Um, eh... this is Tom's father, can I please speak to him?" James sounded as if this wasn't what he'd been expected when he rang.

"He's just bringing India to bed," Chris lied. "Can I help you?"

"Um..."

"He mentioned that you asked about Saturday," Chris helped things along. "I'm sorry to say that I already made plans for us. But we're giving a Christmas party next Saturday before leaving for LA to see my side of the family. We'd love to have you and Vicky, if you can make it?"

"Oh!" James said, now completely thrown. "At Tom's... at your place?"

"Yes," Chris said. "We've already bought a ten-foot tree, might as well throw a party around it."

"Oh." But contrary to Chris' expectations, James sounded delighted. "Yes, um, I will talk with Victoria, but I'm sure we can arrange it."

"That would be great," Chris said. "It's a casual affair. We'll start at..." He looked to Tom for a time, and then said: "After India's nap. Door's open from five."

"I keep forgetting you have the baby in the house," James said conversationally. "Is she there to stay?"

"We're figuring it out," Chris said. "We'll know more after Christmas."

"I'm looking forward to meeting her," James said. "If you don't hear from us again, we'll be there."

"Great. I'll put you down for two."

 

* * *

 

Tom shook his head at him when he made his way back to the play rug and plopped down beside him.

"What?"

"How did you do that?" Tom asked.

"Is it okay?"

"Yeah."

"I'll give Steve and Luke a call tomorrow," Chris said. He scooted closer, magnetically drawn to feeling Tom's body against his. Tom didn't seem to mind. India thought it was great to have her two favorite playmates to play on at the same time.

"You don't even like him," Tom said.

"I don't like him for what he's done to you," Chris said. "But I know he's important to you."

"Not if he keeps doing what he's been doing," Tom said. "Command every encounter, insist on having the last word..."

"He sounded quite happy about being asked," Chris said. "We'll see." He reached over to brush through Tom's hair, and then pulled him in for a kiss. "Hmmm."

"I see now what that's about," Tom said, but didn't struggle. They kissed until India made smacking noises and started hitting Tom's chest.

"Do you mind?" Chris' body became a lot more excited about the contact than was appropriate in India's presence.

"No," Tom said, and stretched in for another kiss. "Thank you."

 

* * *

 

It was so indulgent, and he knew that they wouldn't be able to stay in their little cocoon infinitely, but Chris was delighted to find that Tom had already crawled into bed by the time he came back from putting India down.

Tom was just in his boxers, and Chris quickly stripped to join him, luxuriating in the feel of skin on skin, in the way Tom's breath sped up when he stroked his belly, kissed his neck, the little sounds he made when he hit the perfect spot just under his ear, the way his body rose into Chris', fingertips digging into his back.

Tom mewled discontentedly when he disengaged and pushed away, but Chris calmed him. "I'll be right back," he said. "Don't you go anywhere."

A quick trip to the kitchen later, he returned with an item hidden behind his back.

"What is that?" Tom asked suspiciously.

"Not telling," Chris said, quickly getting under the covers with Tom again, going back to kissing him.

Tom shivered. "Your hands are cold."

"Not for long," Chris promised. "God, you feel so good."

The shift of skin on skin, both freshly showered and lotioned, felt divine, Tom's fingertips gentle on his back, up his spine, in his hair when he went on to explore Tom's clavicle with his lips, tonguing his nipples, making him gasp.

He felt so thankful for having this man in his life, to have him trust him like that, allowing him to make such deep love to him. By the time he'd nibbled his way down to Tom's belly button, he finally revealed the reason for his earlier trip to the kitchen.

"Chocolate sauce." Tom chuckled.

"Not like you're not sweet enough," Chris said, grinning bashfully. "Just feel like... I don't know... indulging you a little." He ducked his head, his heart so full. "Indulging in you," he confessed, blushing. "May I?"

All Tom could do was nod. "Prop me up the headboard?" he asked. "I want to watch."

A few moments later, he wasn't so much watching but screwing his eyes shut, his knuckles white as he clutched desperately at the headboard's rungs. "Jesus."

"You can call me Chris," Chris said conversationally, adding another layer of the sticky sauce to Tom's smooth cock. He had to work hard to get it off the soft skin, but the sensations seemed to be quite pleasurable, if Tom's desperate whining was any indication.

Chris did his best to take his time, indulging in nibbling chocolate sauce out of the crevice between Tom's legs and his balls, loving the heat, the intimacy, the way he made Tom cry out, how incredibly close they were. He sucked Tom's cock like a lollipop and managed to just be rid of the chocolate sauce when Tom's breath had sped up dangerously, succeeding in being cursed for stopping right then.

He shifted up, being enveloped immediately by Tom's legs, and dribbled some of the sauce across his lover's lips and into his mouth. The results were electrifying, both of them swept away on the same wave of desire, and not too much later, their desperate rutting resulted in the inevitable, and left them both sticky, sweaty, and still kissing like their life depended on it.

"You had me shower for _this_?" Tom whispered after a while, voice still raw, his fingers dug deep into Chris' hair, holding him close.

"I love you," Chris said. His throat closed on emotions he couldn't adequately express. "So much."

He could hear Tom's heart beating under his ear, felt his chest lift with every breath.

He never wanted this to end.


	41. What You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris can't get the previous day's therapy session out of his head.

If Chris had thought that now that the major crisis was over, and he'd unearthed what had troubled him, Michael would go easier on him, he'd been very wrong, or so he'd found out.

Michael's main, completely unfounded and extremely aggravating, beef was with Chris' focus on Tom. No matter how hard Chris tried to explain just how important Tom was to him, how much he'd changed Chris for the better, how important Tom's happiness was to him, the stupid questions always went back to "What do _you_ want?" "How do _you_ feel about this?", until Chris wanted to scream. Finally, he'd been so aggravated that he'd yelled at Michael, for the first time: "I don't want to think about it! It's much easier when I focus on someone else!"

Which, judging from the expression on Michael's face, had basically been his point.

Chris hated it when Michael thought he was right.

So Chris had tread lightly for the rest of the night, trying to take a step back from the intensity and just watch what was going on, as Michael had suggested. It didn't change one bit that Tom smiling at him made his heart beat faster and made him stupidly happy. But Tom being so incredibly tired – and being very, very cute in that sleepy state – had meant that Chris had had to deal with himself for a little while, without his immediate support, and he could feel just how wobbly he still was about that. Getting him back and eager to be made love to had been balm on Chris' bruised soul. Getting lost in Tom was always so easy and felt so good.

As they sat in the back seat of Andrew's car the next morning on their way to work, Tom caught him looking at him over the edge of his tablet. Without really talking about it, they'd started to integrate the daily mails and calls more into their work day, whenever they had a bit of empty time, and it had already paid off the previous day, leaving them free to concentrate on each other and their little family once they were home.

"Something on your mind?" Tom asked, nudging him with his knee.

"Nothing in particular," Chris obfuscated, not really wanting to get into just how adorable he thought Tom looked in his dark-rimmed glasses. He gave him a goofy smile, one he hoped Andrew didn't catch in the rear view mirror.

"Did you hear back from Luke yet?"

After cleaning up, they'd spent a bit of time curled up together on the sofa last night, choosing and ordering ornaments for their tree and sending out invitations to the party, and then Tom had insisted that payback was fair game and had done some very nice things to Chris with fudge that he should really not be thinking about right now or it would get very embarrassing very fast.

"Um, no." Chris knew his ears were burning. "Any news from Eric?"

He wanted to ask Tom if he was overdoing it. He wanted to ask Tom how he felt, if he should back off. He wanted to know how Tom felt about how they were with each other on set, if he was okay with it. He should have asked all that last night, when drowning in Tom had just felt too good. And he didn't really know yet how to deal with it if any of the answers would not be what he expected, so he didn't.

"Not in my mails, but let me check the phone." Tom put his tablet on his thigh and dug into his pocket for the phone. He switched it on and checked his messages. Chris could instantly see that the news were not good, even though Tom tried to hide it behind a quick laugh.

"What's he saying?"

"That they can't make the date," Tom said, his voice betraying his disappointment. "Oh, well."

Chris' gut reaction was visceral, wanting to tear Eric's heart out for putting that expression on Tom's face. For being yet another asshol-y family member.

"We both know what that means," Tom said, and he sounded utterly defeated. "Let's not kid ourselves." He turned the phone off and put it away, and for a long time, he just looked out the window, alone with his thoughts.

Chris let him, too stunned to offer consolation. They were in a public place and couldn't talk openly. There were things that Andrew didn't need to hear. And what consolation could Chris really offer? He wasn't even ready to stand by Tom in public, himself. Wanting to jump down Eric's throat didn't change a thing about that. What right did he really have to get upset about other people's shortcomings when it came to this?

Chris was certainly in an introspective mood when they parted ways to get ready for a long day of shooting.

  


* * *

  


"And what do _you_ want?" was the unbidden question that kept echoing through Chris' mind for the rest of the day. As he noticed how hard it had become to pretend that he hadn't changed so profoundly, that he felt very much like a different man from the one who'd started this shoot in September. It felt fake to put on the ebullience and the macho attitude when inside, he was so tender, and so desperate to express that side of him, once and for all. He was getting so tired of putting on a whole other persona on a set that asked him to act yet another. It was exhausting. It wasn't him. And it got harder with every day.

And he was becoming really tired of doing it.

The earlier window gone, Tom didn't really want to talk about Eric any more when they met for lunch in Tom's trailer. The baby was in great spirits and wanted them to interact with her, so there wasn't a real opportunity for a meaningful talk, either.

And later, on the set, Chris watched Tom do his thing, watched him being the person everyone expected him to be: Fun to be around, social, eager to work. From the outside, there was no trace of the struggles they were going through, or how horrid his family was treating him, delivering one low blow after the other. And Chris knew that that also was an act Tom put on, for his benefit. So Chris didn't have to deal with possible rejection, because he felt it was too much for him to deal with.

Taking a step back and just watching what was going on, as Michael had suggested, revealed a picture that he grew more uncomfortable with by the hour. None of it was fair. And none of it was what he really wanted, or really felt.

He didn't really plan any of it. Didn't know what he was going to do when he stepped out of the shower and got into his civilian clothes after a long day of shooting. It was cold and long since dark when he left his trailer and locked it, and he pulled his hat tighter over his ears as he made his way over to the production offices, where he knew Alan had a standing appointment to review the dailies with Kevin via an internet chat.

He slipped into the small theater, finding that the director was still on his own. He would soon be joined locally by the DOP, the Second Unit director and the on-set producer, so Chris had to be quick about it.

"Hemsworth!" Alan greeted him jovially. "Don't want to leave?"

"Heh heh, right," Chris laughed, then grew a lot more serious. "Listen... there... I'd like to talk about something with Kevin, and... it would be great if you could sit in on it. It shouldn't take too long."

"Sure," Alan said. "He should come on any minute now."

"Um... just the three of us, though," Chris said. "Is that possible?"

"Is everything all right?" Alan gave him a curious look.

"Yeah, just... want you two to know it first," Chris said. He was oddly calm. It felt a bit like an out-of-body experience, to be honest, like someone else was saying the words and he was just watching.

Alan's eyes bore into him, and then he nodded. "I'll let the others know to take their time."

"Thanks." Chris took a deep breath. "I appreciate it." He found his hands balled into fists in his coat pockets and forced himself to relax. He probably looked like a sullen teenager, but he couldn't help himself.

He knew this was serious. And he knew he had to do it.

Alan gave him an encouraging smile while talking on the phone, and just a moment later, Kevin's chat window opened. Seeing the producer live upped the stakes considerably. Chris' heart began to pound.

"Heeey," Alan said into the web cam. "Good to see you. We have a visitor. Chris wanted a moment of our time."

"Sure!" Kevin said. "What's going on? Biceps fell off?"

It did make Chris laugh. "Not really," he said.

"That's a relief," Kevin smiled. "Hard to find a replacement in your size on short notice. So, what's up?"

Here it was. This was the moment. Chris' palms were sweating and he felt like he wanted to vomit. "Listen, like..." He swallowed, his collar feeling way too tight. "Like... oof."

They were so patient with him, both attentive, not pressuring him. This was so surreal. It was such an idiot position to be in.

"Take your time," Kevin said. "It's just five other guys in the office in ten minutes. You don't mind an audience, do you?"

Chris had to laugh. "Okay, actually... fuck... I have no idea how to say this without sounding like a total idiot," he confessed. "Because it's absolutely stupid and I've... we've taken the long way around to... to get to it," he babbled. "I broke up with Elsa so I could be with Tom," he finally got to the point. "There, I said it. Which, I know, is going to be a publicity nightmare, most likely. I just want you to know. We have our publicists on it, they have a plan. Call Andrea or Luke, or I'll have them call you, they've been waiting to get things into gear... waiting for me to man up and... and... tell everyone that Tom and I are a couple. There." He huffed. "I'm an idiot," he said. "I'm sorry if it makes things difficult and awkward for everyone, but..." He laughed. "I'm an idiot again and say he's worth it. I hope you won't fire either one of us over this, because we really like this job and want to do more of it, but... yeah. That's it. All I wanted to say."

"Who else knows?" Kevin asked, not giving his feelings about the news away.

"Um... our families," Chris said. "Elsa, obviously." He furrowed his brow, thinking. "Publicists. Management. Funny enough, Downey knows. And a couple of people on set figured it out some time ago. No more than three, though, and they've held tight."

"So it's not public knowledge yet?" Kevin asked.

"No, no." Chris shook his head. "We'd never do that... spring that on you, I mean. There are still things that need to be figured out between Elsa and I. Like I said, Andrea and Luke have been working on how to make it public. We're both not keen on having our private lives dragged through the tabloids." He straightened. "But I'm getting really tired of hiding out and pretending it's not happening."

"Okay." Kevin nodded. "Have your publicist call my office for a good time to talk," he said. "I should be able to take a call later in the day today."

"That... that's it?"

Kevin shrugged. "We'll have a talk, see where everyone stands, what you've planned to do," he said. "Then take it from there."

"Oh. Okay." That was far less drama than Chris had expected.

"Um, just one thing, no word to other crew or cast before we've got back to you," Kevin said. "Just asking that."

"Of course."

"What about my tightest crew?" Alan asked.

"Hold back on that, too," Kevin said. "Word spreads fast on a set."

"No kidding." Chris snorted. "We held tight because we didn't want it to leak before... before everyone was ready for it."

"Well, no way back now," Kevin said. "Listen, I appreciate you coming to me and Alan personally with this."

"Thank you for not firing us right away," Chris said self-deprecatingly.

"I'm guessing this has been going on for a bit," Kevin said, "and I haven't heard word one that either one of you has put in a bad day's work, on the contrary. It's tricky, but trust me, not the first time something like this happens on a set. It's all in how it's handled, and that's what we're going to deal with now."

"Okay." Chris dared to exhale and relax a little more. "Just wanted you to know that we both appreciate working for Marvel and want to do so for a long time to come. If there's anything we can do to help the process along, let us know."

"Will do," Kevin nodded. "Give my best to Tom."

"I will. Thanks."

  


* * *

  


_Tom_.

Once the door of the theater had fallen closed behind him, Chris' knees started to shake and he had to sit down.

He had to tell Tom. He'd just... been going here and doing this on a whim, and he hadn't talked to Tom beforehand, if it was okay. What if it wasn't? What if...?

He had to take a deep breath, and he found that exhaling was a lot easier than it had been before. A laugh started to bubble up, and he had to suppress it, but he grinned. He was fairly sure it was a really loopy grin, but it was better than losing his mind with worry. Alan's posse came up the hallway and wished him a good weekend. All he managed was "Uh-huh" as an acknowledgment as they disappeared one-by-one into the theater.

_Oh my god. I'm out to my bosses._

And it felt so damn good he thought he was floating when he finally made his way down the hallway towards the exit.

This was... the best. And he still had to tell Tom. How could he not burst with the news immediately? Should he wait until home? Should he try asking Tom to dinner, again? Should they just go home and pretend nothing had happened, that it was an ordinary evening?

Chris was nearly running by the time he turned the corner. Tom was standing there with India, chatting with a production assistant. His face lit up when he saw Chris.

"There you are!" he said. "We've been looking for you."

"Do you feel like grabbing dinner on our way home?" Chris asked. Wanting to hug and kiss Tom as he reached him, like any couple would. Like all couples would. He just wanted that. Such a simple thing.

Not long now. Not long now at all.

"Okay," Tom said lightly. "It's early still. Where did you want to go?"

  


* * *

  


Chris sat on the news like on a bouncy cushion on their way to the restaurant. It wanted out. He wanted to tell Tom. He just didn't want to tell him in the car with Andrew.

They finally reached the Italian restaurant Chris had had a hankering for. When they arrived, he thought that maybe he should've chosen something more special. This place would be part of that particular memory forever. They went in and were immediately enveloped by the smell of oven-baked pizza crust and basil. India clapped her little hands and beamed on Tom's arm, recognizing the yummy smell.

It didn't have to be upscale at all.

  


* * *

  


"Chris, what's up?" Tom finally asked once they'd put in their orders. "You're bursting at the seams."

"Let's wait for the wine," Chris stalled.

Tom laughed. "Yeah, what's up with that? You like Coke with your pizza."

"It's our anniversary, after all," Chris protested. "It's special."

Tom smiled at him and reached over to touch his hand. He then hesitated and took it away again.

This had to stop. Chris reached under the table and squeezed Tom's thigh. Tom's hand joined his there and they smiled at each other.

Not long now. Not long now at all.

The wine arrived, and so did the rolls, and they gave India one to gnaw on. Chris pretended to have to fix something on her bib as he reached over Tom to get to her, and used the opportunity to whisper "I love you," into Tom's ear. Tom started at first, but then smiled, and blushed a little.

"Shall we?" Tom asked, picking up his glass.

Chris lifted his as well. His knee pressed against Tom's.

"Honey, spit it out," Tom urged, starting to sound concerned. "You're starting to worry me."

Chris clinked glasses with him and then took a big gulp. He set the glass back down, searching for words. "We're out," he finally simply said.

"What?" He could see that Tom didn't quite know what he wanted to say.

"Tom..." He took Tom's free hand again. "I'm sorry if I was completely stupid in doing that but just before we left, I... I talked to Kevin and Alan. They know we're together. I... I kind of felt... it was the right thing to do." He exhaled, searching Tom's eyes. "I didn't want to lie any more."

Tom stared at him. "What... what did they say?"

"Alan, not much," Chris said. "Kevin, not much, really. He said he's going to talk to the team and that our publicists should make an appointment for a call with him this afternoon, to discuss what we've planned to do." He ducked his head. "Didn't kick us out right away. He told me to give you his best."

"He did?" Tom blinked. He then picked up his glass and emptied it. Completely. "Oh God."

"I'll have to tell Andrea to make the call," Chris said. "She doesn't know yet."

"Should tell Luke," Tom breathed.

"Yeah."

"Chris, what on earth...?"

"Are you okay with it?" Chris urged. "Tom, are you?"

"Yeah," Tom said tonelessly, then his expression picked up to an amazed one. "Yeah. I am. I'm very okay with it. Wow."

"I feel the same way," Chris said. "Totally unreal but so... good."

"Yeah?"

Chris nodded. "Oh, he... he said not to tell crew and cast yet, to wait on that. We were on the same page about that."

"Why the hell am I not worried about my job?" Tom said incredulously. "God!"

"I know." Chris exhaled. "I feel the same way. It's so unreal."

"No." Tom said. "It's so real now." He grew quiet. "Wow."

Chris pressed his hand under the table. Tom pressed it back.

He'd been watching Tom all day, from being so disappointed in the morning, through going through his routines during the day, to now. Why would this wonderful man, the center of his life, after all he'd put him through, be with him, let alone openly like that? What other couples had had to first inform their employers before daring to going public with each other? Why go through all of this, for him?

"Do you still want me...?" Chris asked. He sounded timid. That was okay. He was, right now.

"Yeah." Tom's smile was gentle, and a little surprised. "Just speechless right now. Everything is going to change. The opportunities are endless. I'm... just amazed." He exhaled. "Wow."

  


* * *

  


Luke called when they were ready to leave, and he called Chris' phone, because Chris had sent the invitation to the party. Tom was getting India dressed while Chris disappeared into a service corridor for some relative peace and quiet, and related the news.

"Luke, we're out at work," he said. "Well, not work work, but I talked to Kevin and Alan today. Kevin's expecting a call from you and Andrea later today. Could you team up with her about this?"

There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end. Then: "What happened?"

"It just felt like the right moment."

"A heads up would've been nice!"

"I know. It was a spur of the moment thing. I didn't know I was going to do it before I did it."

"And I just wanted to call to say Steve and I are happy to come to the party, and how big can the gift for India be because Steve wants to buy a whole toy store."

They both chuckled.

"How's Tom?"

"Good," Chris said. "He... yeah. I think he's really good."

"Have you talked to Andrea yet?"

"No." Chris had to laugh about himself. "I took Tom to dinner first."

"Good move, man."

"There may be hope for me yet, you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah." Luke had been there right from the start, every step of the way. He'd seen everything and unfortunately, he'd also been a witness when Chris had hurt Tom so much initially. He was Tom's guardian angel, even though he would never admit it.

"Listen, um, why don't you let me take it from here," Luke said. "We have a plan set up, if there isn't anything you want to add or change, I'd give Andrea a call right now and hash out a game plan for the talk with Marvel, short notice as it is."

"Thank you," Chris said. "No, the plan is fine. It always was. I just needed a bit more time."

"Phew," Luke exhaled at the other end. Then he laughed. "I'm glad for you," he said sincerely. "And I'm happy for Tom."

"We'll talk to you later, then?"

"Yes. I'll call you two later, when I know more."

  


* * *

  


Tom held hands with him all the way home in the cab. They were pretty quiet, both of them, but each time their eyes met, they smiled. And once they were home, and Tom had settled India in the bouncer while Chris put on a kettle, Tom came over to him and kissed him.

"Finally," Chris exhaled, and they both smiled. "More?"

Tom put his hands on the counter top behind Chris and kissed him properly. Chris closed his eyes and soaked it all in. How Tom tasted. How Tom smelled. What his body felt like pressed against his.

"I love you so damn much," Chris said, hearing the catch in his voice. "I just want to be with you and be with you and be with you."

"Smart way to get what you want," Tom smiled, and nudged his chin. "What you did today."

"Yeah. You'd think I could've caught on sooner."

"We're here now. That's all that counts," Tom said quietly.

"Uh-huh." Chris wriggled his hands into Tom's back pockets. "Are you okay?"

"I think I'm still stunned," Tom confessed quietly. "And so relieved, Chris."

"I got so tired of pretending," Chris said. "It's too hard to pretend I don't love you."

He could see that that got through to Tom by the little charmed smile and quick look he gave him. "There's no going back now," Tom warned him nonetheless.

"Good," Chris closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Tom's. "I wouldn't want it any other way."


	42. To Have And To Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Chris spend a nerve wracking evening waiting for word from the Marvel conference with their publicists.

Luke called them again a little later.

"We have a conference call set up with Marvel headquarters and their publicity department in two hours," he informed them. "I have Andrea on hold, can we check in with both of you real quick?"

It wasn't what they had planned on doing with their Friday; spending it with business questions once more, and not with each other and India.

Nevertheless, they agreed and Tom got his laptop set up on the living room table while India was riding on Chris' knee. When everyone came online, Tom apologized.

"Sorry, everyone, this is really India's play time," he explained quickly.

"Hello India!" Luke waved at her.

India stared at the screen, wide-eyed, chewing on her fist with excitement. "Da!" she finally said, pointing at the screen while turning around to Chris. "Da!"

"Yeah, that's Luke, you're right," Chris acknowledged. "Good catch!"

"Boy, she's gotten big!" Andrea said. "I haven't seen her in a while!"

"Seven months old now," Chris said proudly. "She's supposed to be proper and cute."

"She's both," Luke assured him. "Trust me, you'll have to pry Steve off her with a crowbar next Saturday."

"We'll see." Chris had to laugh anyway.

"We're mainly calling about Elsa," Andrea cut to the chase. "We realized that was still an open question last week, and we don't know if anything changed since then."

Chris quickly relayed their agreement to talk with Elsa through her lawyer for now. "That's your best bet if you want to know anything," Chris said. "And that is all we know."

"Hm."

"What questions would you have for her?"

"If she mounts a dirt campaign against you, that would be a big issue," Andrea cautioned.

"I've told her that I want a divorce, and that I want to announce that I'm with Tom by the new year," Chris said. "I don't know if she agrees with that, but since she doesn't talk to me, I kind of had to set a time table, myself."

"That we have no idea what she wants to do is a big problem," Andrea pointed out.

"There's nothing we can do about it right now," Chris said. "She's made it clear she wants to be left alone to think until she comes back from Romania. We've been at her to speak with India for weeks now, and she's always chickened out, so.. I want her to still be India's mother, so I'm giving her the space she asks for right now and hope for the best."

"We can use that," Luke said.

"I want us to share custody for India," Chris said clearly. "I'm just waiting for her to come talk to me."

"She's certainly put herself in a weak position," Andrea mused.

"I don't want a smear campaign against Elsa, either," Chris made clear. "There will be no ex-wife bashing. For all the public knows, she's doing a movie and we've amicably agreed that I take India while she does, which we did. Our private life will stay our private life."

"So what is our story?" Luke asked.

"What I said to Kevin and Alan today. I did leave Elsa for Tom," Chris said. "I'm taking that blame."

Luke scratched his head. "We'll need a little more than that."

A little more than that would always mean divulging more of their private life, which both were reluctant to do.

"How do your families feel about all of this?" Andrea asked. "Especially the Hemsworths, since they're more in the public eye."

"They're all supportive," Tom said.

"I think Liam's pretty thrilled," Chris admitted. "Luke's a bit skeptical, he needs a bit of time to wrap his head around it."

"He's talking to us, though," Tom said. "We'll see the whole family over Christmas so, no, there is no animosity there, on the contrary."

"Tom's family's split right down the middle; his father and older sister are okay with it, and mother and younger sister aren't," Chris explained.

"But I've always kept my family out of the limelight," Tom said. "I'd like to keep it that way. They don't care to give interviews about me or be dragged into the tabloids on behalf of me, never have."

"Ben is completely supportive," Chris said. "Benedict Cumberbatch?"

"That's good to know," Luke said.

"We talked to RDJ one night and he was ready to throw us a party," Tom said. "I don't think there will be any negativity from co-stars, either."

"Except maybe Kat?" Chris gave Tom a look, and then quickly related the incident with Elsa on set, and how Kat had mounted a little campaign against him for a while. "That was all about my leaving Elsa, though. She didn't know it was for Tom."

"We should definitely note that," Luke said.

"Renee knows we're together and is also supportive," Tom said. "So's Natalie."

"All good arguments."

"I'm still missing a spin," Andrea said. "You leaving Elsa for Tom – sorry, Tom – still not great. Cheating is still cheating and leaving wife and small child..." She wagged her head. "I'm not trying to be obtuse or mean; these are the things that will be talked about later and we need to be prepared."

They were quiet for a while, all thinking.

"I know you hate the angle," Luke finally said slowly. "But... people discovering that they're gay still happens every day. And the general public is more accepting and more knowledgeable about it now."

"I fell in love with Tom," Chris said quietly.

"I know." Luke sighed. "I know that."

"Does the when make a difference?" Tom finally said.

"What do you mean?"

Tom exchanged a look with Chris. They held it for a long time. This was their story, some of it they really wanted and needed to keep for themselves.

"What if..." Tom said slowly, never looking away from Chris' eyes, "what if we fell in love long before Chris met Elsa, and just were too chicken shit to do something about it?"

"How long before are we talking about?" Andrea probed carefully.

"First time I set eyes on him," Chris said tonelessly.

Tom just nodded.

"Oh boy." Andrea sighed. "Fake marrying Elsa to get over gay crush isn't much better, either."

"Yes, but thinking they were straight, and that's the reason they didn't do anything about it, is," Luke said.

"That's basically what happened," Tom said, shrugging his shoulders. "That, and being afraid that our careers would end even before they'd really started."

"True love wins in the end," Luke said, thinking out loud. "Even through trying to do the right thing, finding a good girl to marry, starting a family, they couldn't forget each other."

"That's a bit saccharine," Andrea said.

"It's basically what happened," Chris said. "Elsa wasn't a front, I was convinced I was doing the right thing. I thought I loved her."

"Then what happened?" Andrea asked.

"We started filming Thor 2," Chris said. "And the whole thing crashed down on top of me. I've been unhappy in my marriage long before. I just didn't want to see it." He sighed. "It doesn't mean I don't want to do right by her now. It wasn't her fault what happened."

"Here's one thing we can't forget," Luke said. "Andrea, not sure you've seen them together yet?"

"Not since all of this happened, no."

"Well, I have and I'm telling you, if anyone has seen them together, they'll know that they belong together and always have."

"You always did have chemistry, I give you that," Andrea admitted.

"Yeah, multiply that by a hundred now and you're not even close," Luke said. "Basically, what I'm saying is that what people need to see is the two of you together, which is why I was looking for casual appearances, walks together, appearing at a premiere together, things like that, before we even start making it public. Everyone is going to say: 'Oh, we should have seen it all along.'"

"I'm happy to entertain a coordinated time line of appearances with Chris," Tom said.

"When you're papped with Chris and the baby at Heathrow and LAX next Sunday, that should be a good start," Luke said. "We all know it's going to happen, unless you're taking different flights."

"We're not," Chris said. He suddenly realized how deluded he'd been about wanting to hide this for much longer, for thinking he had so much time to get comfortable with this. "And it's fine. They can pap us. As far as the general public is concerned, I've asked Tom to spend Christmas with me and my family."

"It's already common knowledge that you and Elsa split up," Andrea said. "It's up to people to connect the dots."

"Which they will, eventually," Luke said.

Chris surprised himself by saying, "Good." And then felt Tom's hand slip into his, and shouldn't have been surprised by how good it felt to have him smile at him.

"Okay, okay, okay," Andrea said. "I can see it now. You can stop."

"We need a good photo series of them together," Chris heard Luke say. "And I'm going to write up a press release that we can go through later."

But it was all only so much background noise against the love and pride so visible in Tom's eyes.

 

* * *

 

It was a good thing they already had a routine, so they knew step by step what to do with their evening. Both men were worried about the outcome of the Marvel talk, but there was nothing they could do about it from here. There was a reason production companies and actors had representatives; it meant creative individuals could freely work together without the animosity of yesterday's contract negotiation. But it was nerve wracking to just sit and wait.

Eventually, Tom volunteered to get India's bottle ready for her bed time ritual, while Chris changed her one last time into her comfy pajamas and chose a book to read to her for the night. When he came back into the living room, Tom still wasn't there. Chris settled the baby in her day bed with a cuddly toy and went to the kitchen, sensing that Tom needed his undivided attention.

He wasn't wrong.

It felt good to know that Tom was seeking comfort from him again, the way his arms slung around his torso, and his face hid against his shoulder. Chris held him, slowly stroking his back, gently swaying them back and forth.

"Are you okay?" he asked, a little unsure of what he would do if the answer was _no_.

Tom blew out a laugh. "I should be asking you that," he said.

Chris made him look up. " _Are you okay_?" he asked again, very clearly. He found his thumb stroking Tom's cheek bone, and he loved the way that made Tom smile. "Hm?"

"Yeah." Tom's eyes were shining in a way Chris hadn't seen in a while: full of warmth and gentleness. "I am a bit scared," he then admitted. "And I don't know how to tell you."

"Okay." Chris enveloped him in his arms again, holding him close.

After a moment, Tom sighed, and his body relaxed against Chris'. It felt wonderful.

"I love you so damn much," Chris said. "That's all I've been thinking about all day." He found himself sighing contentedly, himself, relaxing into just being with Tom, not afraid at all of losing his footing.

He could feel Tom smile against his shoulder, his fingertips drawing slow circles on Chris' back. "I thought about why I was so tired yesterday," he confided.

"And...?" Chris placed a soft kiss against Tom's temple.

"I think I was just so... relieved," Tom said. "That things were starting to get better. All the tension drained away."

"You mean it wasn't my awesome skills in bed?" Chris teased gently. "I've been thumping my chest inwardly, roaring, all day."

"Heh heh heh." Tom squeezed his middle and cuddled himself in more. "I'll be checking for gray hairs on your back later."

"Why would you... oh." Chris smiled, getting the reference. "Thanks for comparing me to a gorilla."

"You started it."

"I did." Chris slowly swayed them towards the island, and once he had Tom pinned against it, proceeded to kiss him. Very, very seriously.

It was a damn nice kiss. A really, really good kiss. Everything about it was stellar. The intimacy. The way Tom yielded to him and at the same time naughtily stuck his hands down the back of his pants and pulled him closer. The way their breaths sped up. The way Tom tasted both familiar and at the same time so exciting that doing something creative with that island and Tom writhing on it began to look really, really good.

And of course, before they could move anything anywhere, India started calling for them, so they broke it off, chuckling softly, very much in tune with each other.

"I'm scared, too," Chris said. "But I'm more excited than afraid."

That made Tom smile again, and he blinked, which made his smile even warmer.

"Okay," he said.

 

* * *

 

Their loving ease with each other, and the fact that they'd extensively played with the little girl once they had come home, fortunately seemed to have rubbed off on India, because she went to sleep in Chris' arm before Tom had even finished reading the story. Chris carefully carried her upstairs and made sure her night light was on and the baby phone working before he joined Tom again.

"How long now?" he asked.

"They should have started," Tom said tonelessly. "Jesus. This is really nerve wracking."

"Some anniversary present, huh?" Chris plopped down on the sofa and pulled Tom close for a moment, placing a fond kiss against his temple.

Tom gave him a look, happy to be pulled in, his hand settling on Chris' thigh, rubbing it absentmindedly.

"What are you thinking?" Chris asked in a low voice.

"All kinds of stuff," Tom said. "My mind seems to be a free-fire zone for random thoughts right now. Lots and lots of unrelated things."

"Like?"

Tom shrugged. "Pretty disconnected stuff." He grimaced. "I'm a bit disappointed in myself."

"Why?"

"Eh." Tom sighed. His thumb kept brushing over Chris' thigh as he tried to frame his thoughts into words. "It's so weird," he finally said. "I've been so on you about all of this. Now I feel bad."

"About what?" Chris asked.

"Like... was I trying to tell you that everything would be okay when we come out?" Tom said, looking at him.

"No," Chris said sincerely.

Tom exhaled a long breath of relief. "Okay."

"Do you want to know how I got there?"

Tom didn't look at him when he nodded, his fingertips tracing the inseam of Chris' pajama bottoms.

"I guess..." Chris said. "I guess it was reverse psychology or something."

"Michael?" Tom gave him a quick look.

"First listen, then jump down his throat," Chris said.

Tom look caught. "Okay," he said meekly.

"Hey," Chris said lightly, "I've been wanting to kick his ass myself last night, so you're welcome to it."

Tom looked a little caught. "Heh heh. Okay."

"He's been really at me about you," Chris said, thinking that right down the middle would be the best solution, meeting the problem head-on. "Because I was so worried that I wasn't making you happy, and how I could... you know, I knew how hard all of this was on you and it made me feel really bad. And then Michael keeps going at how I should look out for myself, first. Not put your needs front and center all the time, but mine. Not make your goals mine when they aren't."

"He isn't all wrong," Tom admitted.

"You know how mad he makes me when he's right," Chris said.

Tom chuckled. "Yeah."

"He kept going at me, asking me, _What do you want, what do you want?_ over and over again. I was so mad." He grimaced. "It wasn't good enough when I said, _Tom_."

"It isn't," Tom agreed.

"Now you start, too." Chris mock scowled at him, making Tom smile again.

"Okay, go on." Tom nudged him gently. "I'm listening."

"Anyway..." Chris sighed deeply. "I was all set to prove him wrong, that I did have my own mind and that I knew what I was doing. But I... he said to just watch myself for a day... and I did." He blew out a breath. "I did."

Tom allowed the silence to go on for a while before he pressed Chris' knee. "And...?" he prompted.

"Eh." Chris ran a hand through his hair. "It wasn't really that flattering because once I'd stopped pulling in the other direction, I realized that what I wanted was... well, basically, what you wanted."

"He'll kick you out of therapy," Tom teased.

"Heh heh, probably." Chris smiled at Tom. "I was just so tired of being so afraid. I was looking at you trying to be so brave about this Eric thing, and I thought about how shitty your family is to you, and I just thought, how can you be so there for us, and wanting to be with me publicly, and I'm here, having it fairly easy with my family and all, shaking in a corner over ghosts."

"Not ghosts," Tom said. He took Chris' hand. "It is all real. Your concerns aren't imaginary."

"You're telling me this _now?_ " Chris said in mock exasperation.

They both laughed, dispelling the tension.

Tom leaned against him, playing with his fingers. "That's what I was trying not to say earlier," he mused, not looking at Chris.

"What?"

Tom shrugged. "I guess I've been pushing you so hard... and then I wasn't allowed to think about it at all because I was giving you space – which was fine," he hurried to say. "It helps no one to be pushed out of the closet."

"Go on," Chris prompted.

"And then..." Tom bobbed his knee nervously. "Ack, not proud of it, but it kind of... hit home. It's not that I regret anything, I don't," he hurried to say. "I'm fully into this, I'm glad we're going there, I'm glad it's finally happening."

"But..."

Tom gave him a quick look, and sighed. "It just brings home that... that things might stay that way. That this might be permanent. That coming out with you might mean more hostilities from my closest family, and... it's a step forward that might mean no way back with them, ever" He exhaled. "And that's fucking scary."

 _And I left you alone with all of this, hiding out,_ came the unbidden thought immediately. _You're only going through this because of me._ Then Chris' therapy kicked in before he could start going down that spiral of guilt that had so often destroyed everything they'd built between them. "It is," he said. "It is fucking scary."

"I'm okay with it if you are," Tom hurried to say.

"Someone told to me recently that it's allowed to be sad about stuff," Chris said. "I found that pretty good advice."

Tom's hand gripped his painfully.

"Oh, Tom." He pulled him closer, pressing another kiss to his temple. "It's okay, babe. I understand."

It was probably weird, but the fact that Tom allowed himself to cry about the injustice of the world against his shoulder, soaking his pajama top and bruising his hand by how tightly he held it made him more proud than anything he had accomplished in a really, really long time.

 

* * *

 

The phone rang at 10.38 pm. It was Luke.

Tom's voice was shaking when he picked it up. "Yeah?" he rasped.

"Is Chris there?"

"I'll put you on speaker." Tom touched the button and held the phone so Chris could hear, as well.

"It went as well as can be expected," Luke said.

"Did they agree to your plans?" Chris asked.

"Yes. They asked to have it in writing so they can refer to it and amend it if necessary, but on the whole, it's been accepted as a viable approach as is."

"What's the downside?" Tom said.

Luke took a moment to answer. "In a nutshell, if we all do a good job about it and the general public reacts favorably, things will just go on as planned," he said. "But if they don't, and _The Dark World_ tanks because of bad press about this, your relationship with Marvel will come to an end at that point."

Both their contracts had Good Behavior clauses. It didn't come as a surprise. Still, it smarted.

"It's business," Luke said. "I'm confident things will work out fine, though. Everyone's been very cooperative. The fact that we've thought this through in advance and had a full plan of action in place was well received. They've said several times that they are an inclusive workplace and have a lot of interest in keeping both of you in their employ."

"What about the fact that Thor and Loki are brothers?" Tom wanted to know.

"We didn't talk about that," Luke said. "But I relayed everything Chris said before, that he has no interest in a dirt campaign, neither from Elsa, nor about her, and that both of you have vested interest in keeping your private lives private. So please no scandals..." Luke laughed. "Please don't prove me wrong."

"We'll be fully cooperative," Tom promised. "Thank you so much, Luke."

"Yes, thank you," Chris added.

"Thank you for trusting me with this," Luke said. "I'll send you what I'm sending Marvel so you have everything in writing."

"You went above and beyond," Tom said. "Have good weekend, Luke. We'll talk to you, soon!"

"You, too!"

Tom turned off the phone and put it on the table. For a moment, everything was very quiet.

Chris waited for the panic to set in, but there was nothing.

He closed his eyes and just breathed. Still nothing.

It felt really good.

Chris smiled.

And then feeling good got a lot better when Tom proceeded to climb into his lap and started kissing him softly, murmuring something about their anniversary not being over, and that he really, really felt like they had wasted enough of their special evening on other people right now.

Sliding his hands under Tom's shirt and hearing his lover softly gasp into his mouth in reaction, Chris had a feeling that things had a pretty good chance of going to be okay.

 

– The End –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One year of writing and roughly 185k words later, this is it!
> 
> THANK YOU for sticking by this story even when it got difficult and very hard to read for a while. Thank you for all the comments and the Kudos's (ESPECIALLY after the hard-to-read chapters!) and the lovely encouragement and discussions and for just being there. 
> 
> Hugs all around! <3
> 
> I am so relieved this is finished I think I'm going to lie down and not get up for a while.


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